Gray nonexistence of the clouds -
The soulless powder down it throws
The skull of sun somewhere upwards
Is biting them, powerless although.
With a hot grin it also gnaws.
But they then, full of dumb disgust,
Like smoke are hanging over cities
In such tight herds as if by nasty
Fallen angel were there feeded.
translation from MN
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem