It's A Hoax, With Enchanting Anguish

It's a hoax, with enchanting anguish, That's why life is strong, and full of gloom: Often, with its rough hand, in harsh language, Life sends notes, exclaiming, "You are doomed!" Every time I close my eyes, I'm saying: "Only make my heart somewhat alert. Life is fake, though some lies and pain, When adorned with joys, get less absurd. Face the gray-haired sky, whose life ain't ending, Prophesize your future with the moon, Just calm down. You're mortal. Quit demanding, You don't need to know the truth so soon." Living through a snowstorm from bird cherries, It's so nice to think that this is fate: May my lightweight ladies dupe, not caring, May I by light male friends be betrayed. May I be caressed by words of tender, May there speak some razor-edged, vile tongue, I'll accept whatever life will render, Mercilessly used to all its wrongs. These bright heights are making my heart colder, Warmth from starlight fires one can't detect: Those, whom I had loved, renounced or sold me, Those, for whom I'd lived, won't recollect. Yet, though I've been pressed and persecuted, I keep smiling, happy with each dawn. Love for this dear Earth cannot be muted. I thank life for all that's going on.