Salt is pity, brooms are fury,
The waterclock stands for primordial harmony.
The spruce forest, which is said to be
Like a cathedral
Indicates proliferation of desire.
The real meaning of the beginning
Will not become clear until later, if ever.
Things no longer being what they were,
Artifice poses as process,
The voice is tinged with melancholy.
The teacup, the brass knuckles, and the pearl-handled razor
As if to say
That half the wind is in the mind
And half in the mind of the wind.
Speaking through the character
Who comes to faith on his deathbed,
The author makes apology
For saying things he didn't mean.
Little girl-cousins with ribbons in their hair
Confuse him with their names and are carried away
By laughter. Thus,
The force of love comes from belief,
Hate is from lack of doubt.
Paradox by paradox the narrative proceeds
Until half the stars are absolute tears.
The other half are mirrors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem