Fire in the Reeds

One night, fire fell into a reed bed

It burned like love falling onto a soul

As fire’s head warmed to its work

every reed turned into a candle at its own grave

Reed said to the fire, What is this tumult?

What do you mean by this burning?

Fire said, it was not without reason that I flared up

I burned down your meaningless claim

For you said, I am the reed, with a hundred displays

You were as bound to yourself as to being

Making this claim—you cheap alloy—

why do you sprout leaves every spring?

It is becoming to feel pain—

fire cures the pain of feeling no pain