Charcoal is an impure substance
Called bone-black.
Of the animals is this charcoal
And we ascertain longevity
By heating the way of life.
Upon its character we find no smoke or flame,
Merely the rigidity of a fireplace,
Hotter than relics or artifacts.
Burning one way and another.
Burning again, like charcoal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem