Important large tasks cleanly overwhelm the under-waters:
A park of warmth, ports of drink, words of boats and sounds;
I want the cats of the past to think back to their young existence,
And I wish them to see small, surprising toads in action underneath.
A terror lurks where white clothes are standing upright in the past,
The number of countries may be eight times the number in the past,
But the terror is in each watery region, whether arctic ocean or arabian sea,
Even the pacific ocean, and the ridiculous atlantic ocean.
To stay and mourn for the sea we wield white attire, alone in the dark
So we are seen, never the steps for a seated man or woman,
But the steps of a beast so burdened by the sea that water gushes,
As this space is ruled by grave affairs of the underwater.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem