Sister Irony

Sorrow is boring.
How you float through its timelessness--
the square of window is gray and boring.
The globe of sky is gray and boring.
People, two-legged creatures,
walk, back and forth,
injuring one another.
The others watch
or write it down.
Who started it? Who's guilty?
Sorrow drinks beer. Irony
sips whiskey. She's my sister:
the same as me, but
where I cry she laughs.
She survives everything, immortal
like a protozoon
or grave digger,
flipper of pancakes and tears, a liar!
Being in love, but with whom?
Herself? A laugh?
One day I'll get her drunk,
shake out that restraint,
the space between.
Below, I'll see a sea crop up.
A herring in the sea.
And above the herring
there'll be crying
an orphan universe--

by Sylvia Fischerova
translation Stuart Friebert and Sylvia Fischerova

I don't fully understand this poem, but I read it this week and wanted to add it to the conversation.