Pra asedeh kung kastigu,
sertu mistih prendeh
klai skiseh amiang sa speransa:
yuniang sa kauzu.
Junta sa kauzu.
Familia sa kauzu.
Pra largah sufrimintu,
justu mistih asedeh ki tokah kriseh korsang beneta
falta di montanya kung mar,
pedredu di semesta kung strelapedra.
Pra fikah pedra brangku,
mistih chispah ira,
strikah bontadi,
asah osu ki kereh bai fuzih na otru.
Kauzu nteh nada podih bai fuzih:
Bos ngua kung otru,
ngua di Otru.
Kereh alegrah na Orta sa sombra,
bistih lontra sa peli?
Numpodih.
Numistih na isti sekulu seku,
na sentru di sabia sertu
ki nus tudu logu kureh,
logu dartah,
logu prendeh duensa sa linggu agudu,
dedu moli kung kainyu,
dadu marabiya kung malisozu.
Tirah dadu.
Tokah ngua kontasang di amiang,
ke ngua razgah di ropa di rostu.
Bos podih skuleh klai impodih skuleh:
ngzaminah ki numistih ngzaminah,
mostrah ki nggeng desah sabeh ja tokah mostrah.
To agree with punishment,
one must learn
how to forget tomorrow’s hope:
because of union.
Because of gathering.
Because of family.
To let go of suffering,
one just must agree that unfortunately growing a good heart
is the fault of the mountains and seas,
the loss of the universe and planets.
To become a white rock,
you must spark the wrath,
iron the desire,
roast the bones that wanted to flee elsewhere.
because there is nowhere else one can flee to:
you are one another,
one of the Other.
You want to relax in the shade of the Orchard,
wearing the otter’s skin?
You cannot.
You must not in this dry century,
in the centre of certain knowing
that we all will have to run,
all will have to melt,
all will learn of sickness’s sharp tongue,
its fingers soft and piercing,
its dice marvellous and wretchedly impure.
Throw the dice.
Suffer a recounting of tomorrow,
or a ripping apart of the clothes of the face.
You can choose how you want not to choose:
an examination of what you must not examine,
a revealing of what no one desires to know has been suffered to be shown.