If you go through the yellow door, You cannot go through the blue one. Who cares about the blue? I’m glad To find a mint sprig in my tea In a glass on a red table And my loved one singing a song About people who have lived lives They never should have dared to live. We are all cheated in the end. Who cares about the end? I’m glad To have learned to read, to have loved At least one bright bird and one house. Right now I will be — no, right now The night, casual with cricket- Song, tosses up a moon so bright That it whistles in the dead trees.