A place that is placelessness,
Being crossed by a temporary road.
Watch the master change his work upon the canvas;
Every stroke will endure what no longer exists.
Witness the snow-capped mountain change into a waterfall of earth.
Expel the frantic words of console,
Not all the pieces are found.
Let the artist portray his work,
To the audience of the dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem