To live (and not to yield)

We die,
we die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed,
bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers,
fears we have hidden in like this wretched cave...

...I want all this marked on my body.
We are the real countries, not the boundaries drawn on maps
with the names of powerful men...

...I know you will come and carry me out into the palace of winds, the rumors
of water...
That's all I've wanted - to walk in such a place with you, with friends, on earth
without maps.

The lamp's gone out and I'm writing
in the darkness...

'The English Patient', 1996