THE SEASIDE GRAVEYARD

Stanzas 12-18

(Version 1)

One thinks of nothing.  It’s so baking here

that walls disintegrate and bushes blear

back into air, though still cicadas grind.

—To nothing-air, severe as nothing is.

Life could be drunk on absence such as this!

It makes pain almost nice and clears the mind

...

                                (translated by Alan Marshfield)

THE CEMETERY BY THE SEA

Stanzas 12-18

(Version 2)

The future, now I am here, is idleness.

An insect scrapes the dryness: neat, precise.

All is burnt, shrivelled, turned back again to air—

To who knows what severity of essence...?

Life is vast, intoxicated with absence.

Bitterness is sweet and the mind is clear.

...   

                                        (translated by Alan Marshfield)