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The spectacle is not so chilling after all.
By degrees the people become accustomed to the gate,
to the work, to the little injustice.
Still others find relief in poetry.
Anyone may stumble all of a sudden.
Trust is a laudable virtue only in ordinary times.
With awe and reverence, I am hiding
the pages that can tell about the quiet groans.
I have trifled with the fear of death,
the shameful recoiling and desire to strike.
But can one wear the clothes of someone who has
perished?
Can one eat in the presence of a
corpse?
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