Out on the open ground not far from the building
an abandoned newspaper has lain for months, full of events.
It grows old through nights and days in rain and sun,
on the way to becoming a plant, a cabbage-head, on the way to being
united with the earth.
Just as memory is slowly transmuted into your own self.
translated by Robin Fulton
very true.
Yes. I have now returned to this poet and find many gems worth sharing soon.