Riches, in the ordinary

It was like this:
you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.

Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.

It doesn’t matter what they will make of you
or your days: they will be wrong,
they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man,
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.

Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.

Jane Hirshfield, It Was Like This: You Were Happy [extracts]

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