My Friend

My friend, it is my own sorrow That has destroyed me. It is a lie to think That your love had the strength to do it. I have no complaint against Heat or drought. My garden was destroyed By the dews of spring. It is not the fault Of the black night. The ocean was defeated By its beloved moon. Who is it that Blames death? A man is destroyed, By his birth. The sun that rises Is certain to sink. He lies who says The west destroyed it. Yes, one can be destroyed By grieving for dead friends, Though it is more likely the result, Of the display of that grief. The enemy is not the murderer, I tell you. Shiv was killed By those who loved him.