Space is arched like a sail,
its laws the same everywhere,
and the broad faces of moths
compose its outer tier.
While we are balanced
on the chasm’s meniscus,
we will not let our pointless sadness
misrepresent God’s realm.
Life, that unresolved question,
we leave till later.
Both the crazed woodpecker
and the gaping fish
are like broken keys
jutting from rusty locks,
or an ignoramus
flaunting his ugliness.
Translated by Ruth Fainlight