In order to awaken, to anticipate, to hope for
the grand edifices of the past
beyond any other ruined thing
The beauty that vainly constructs our conceptions
within the limits of time
will never be able to tell the story
of their sadness
And yet, the linoleum in full bloom on the ground
A flock of sheep devours the edges of the fields and boughs of trees
as they move forward sluggishly
get pushed up onto the road tottering
They continue their movement
In winter every thing
is no more than a shadow cast by a spirit
an embrace of spirits
tangled like threads of wet wool yarn
To arouse, anticipate, and hope
For a grand building of the past
Atop every other ruined thing
Beauty, constructing our notions in vain
At the limits of time
Their sorrows are never to be told
But on the linoleum ground with flowers abloom
A herd of sheep devours the edges of the fields and trees
While heavily moving forward
They get pushed up onto the street, falter, and
Continue this movement
All things in winter are
Nothing more than the projection of souls
The embracing souls
Tangled like wet yarn
過去の壮大な建物を
あらゆる他の滅びたもののうへに
喚び起し 待ちもうけ 希望するために
我々の想念をむなしくきづいてゐる美は、
時の限界の中で
彼らの悲しみはけつして
語られることはないだらう
併し地上の花の咲いたリノリユウムは
羊の一群が野原や木のふちを貪つて
のつそりと前進しながら
路上に押しあげられ 踉き
彼等はその運動を続けてゐる
冬時にすべてのものは
魂の投影にすぎない
魂の抱擁
湿った毛絲のやうにもつれながら