I heard that there were arsonists 

Roaming about the streets

The other day, torching buildings down 

Bit by bit to the ground.

I was, at that time, lounging in a verdant field, 

Plucking the choicest berries 

From bushes lush,

Relishing their juices to quench my thirst.

Coffined in a bubble of oblivion,

Lost was the difference between bullets and amorphous phantasms;

Between gunshots and radio silence;

Between heavy arms and flimsy trinkets.

I was on the other side of the world 

Where no words 

Could reach my ears 

And nothing could move me to tears.

I kept floating nevertheless 

In my bubble of ignorance,

For ignorance is bliss 

And comfort that rises above the tall grass and scarlet tulips.

Even today I'd rather stay hidden 

Between the blades towerin',

Despite the rue that brews within me,

Every time I spare a gaze beneath, long and deep

At the countless colonies of dead ants;

At the flaring parcels of land;

At firm feet sinking into the sand; 

At the faintest light of hope hiding somewhere in the deep end.