translated by Holly Taylor 

 

We all revolve around ourselves like luminous bodies. Our central axis separates
desires from necessities and still begs for peace. Our other planets are strangers
to us. Swirling around their own misfortunes, their loneliness. All else is simply
resplendent light. The hands of earthliness touch everything the same, some
earlier, suffocating in a hideous manner. The mind receives external signals,
which it recycles with zeal, transforming them, habitually, into symbols.
Everything tires of living, yet fears dying. The continuous flow of water reminds
us of the debt of existence, to which few exceptions are judged as unacceptable.
The orbit is circular, it is not ever avoided, the return to the place of departure;
and there is not the slightest exception to this rule.

 

     The Land of Paradoxical Things, To Kendri editions, 2014