*
Humpbacked, the last September
moon dips nightly
towards the chasm in the East; soon the dark
will be round. The sparkle of stars
chills the clear night, as the sail
fades, and dwindles
to meet the sun.
What other death is so grand?
If only we could believe
that the East awaits us as well,
as it does this last September moon...
or that a sunlit morning of a different creation
lies behind the night...
Instead, we are only swallowed by the dark,
and can look to no crescents, no new moons,
there is no sweep of stars,
no sky. Nothing,
anymore.
(Translated by Anthony Molino)