Be Young Forever, Seasons Of The Earth.

I Have No Wisdom, No Skills, And No Faith But I Received Strength, It Tears The World Apart. I Shall Break, A Heavy Wave, Against Its Shores And A Young Wave Will Cover My Trace.

The Partition Separating Life From Death Is So Tenuous. The Unbelievable Fragility Of Our Organism Suggests A Vision On A Screen: A Kind Of Mist Condenses Itself Into A Human Shape, Lasts A Moment And Scatters.

The Vineyard Country, Russet, Reddish, Carmine-brown In This Season. A Blue Outline Of Hills Above A Fertile Valley. It's Warm As Long As The Sun Does Not Set, In The Shade Cold Returns. A Strong Sauna And Then Swimming In A Pool Surrounded By Trees. Dark Redwoods, Transparent Pale-leved Birches. In Their Delicate Network, A Sliver Of The Moon. I Describe This For I Have Learned To Doubt Philosophy And The Visible World Is All That Remains.

And If There Is No Lining To The World? If A Thrush On A Branch Is Not A Sign, But Just A Thrush On The Branch? If Night And Day Make No Sense Following Each Other?

It Is Sweet To Think I Was A Companion In An Expedition That Never Ends