I envy all lovers
For their intimation of intimacy, and the sweetness of closeness
Be it in togetherness, or in separation.
I envy Romeo, and Juliette
For their love of life, and their love of youth.
I envy the great poet Dante
For his love he descended into hell and was then reborn into a new day.
I even envy the mad German philosopher
True, he couldn’t pull it off, but his heart was willing
and his Geist was not,
(And she went off with another, in any case).
I envy Paris
What? A city?
Yes, for her amour
and much else that goes on besides.
I envy that gem of the East (and probably the West also)-
That monument to civilization
For every longing regard into the eye of the beloved
For every sigh of yearning, for every love letter written
From the dew of the heart.
The furtive glance
The lovely soul
The meeting of fates
The creating beyond oneself -
Of a new destiny. Strong, proud, and resilient
Like a flower out of the concrete
A resounding “Yes!” in the face of an ineluctable universe
And yet, I envy my own envy
For envy is love of life, love of growth, love of creating
In short, love of love.