Noon at mid-summer is cruel as clear consciousness.
Whatever escapes numbness only in form is cut for prey,
Snakes twirl upward like wisps of smoke.
It is growing dark, autumn is distant and is drawing near.
With the laws of the dead I established freedom
in order to subdue it and ascertain everything.
Winds girdle me, it’s a long climb.
The pain that I am enters into me like a knife.
Behind me full of evil composure lurks silence.
The fall is long like an outcry that dies in the distance.
Lost in silence I seek strength for a new venture,
but everything seems to rot in the grip of darkness.