Chrysanthemums crying out on the borders of death,

Lone teeth walking in the icy water.

The heavy body mourns!

It howls outside the hedges of death,

Pushed out of the enclosure.

Now it must meet the death outside the death.

Haven’t you seen the cold faces outside the gate,

The bag of bones warming itself in a tree,

The rags constantly trailing those lumpish feet?

There is a desolation that only the Egyptian knows,

Freezing at dawn in the desert,

And the water jar turned over by a falling Testament—