Se, der går en Zebra

Love after Love

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was yourself.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignoered
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

(Derek Wlacott, 1984)

No man is an island, entire of itself
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as weoo as if a promontory ere,
as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were
any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind
and therfore never send to know for whom te bell tolls
it tolls for thee.

(John Donne, 1624)