in the knee-high grasses we grew quickly
into pines which stood by each other
sharp houses at your back the mountain a
familiar old slope

the land an unevenness between
watercourses a coffee stain on the
almighty white covered table

years sloping away one doesn't know
from what point to start measuring
which mountains are being poured out
in lonelier districts

holy mountain blocky breezy
bridal body graves to see far and wide
and towers all with the same name to read
incomprehensible dialects between them

Translation by Andrew Duncan