Distorted images facing me, their ugliness transfixed in time,
mesmerized by the insanity of earthly pyres.
Sanquishing forever, the impossibility of blissful meaning in
Catholic spires.
Shards of tranquility pierce the ferocity of spiraling havoc,
wrecked inside.
Echoing the call of wild fury, life dangles furiously on the
ends of wires.
So completely immersed in the essence of everyday strife,
wholly distant, far from others.
Standing over, peering in, at last the meaning of natural
life falls within the sphere of deathly quiet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem