So without worry are we Poem by Mark Boog

So without worry are we,
making this house a place of refuge,
following with just a glance
the birds outside (worries become flesh),
that it seems as if it must be so -

that it's untrue, over which there is
no need to even cross swords,
doesn't mean to say it is allowed.

It does, however, mean that we are here,
and that the birds fly as birds do,
and that nothing tangible bars our happiness.

Translation: 2004, Willem Groenewegen