Do you wonder why, when the good appears,
It receives censure and ridicule?
The beautiful made me weak,
The beautiful dumped me in a puddle of tears.
To do my laborious work, I need my garden tool.
How do I look, covered in dirt, when the beautiful appears?
When we are compared to the good, we get blamed.
So we embrace the shameful. To feel less ashamed.
Do you know why the beautiful causes you anger and grief?
The good is a growing tree. And you are a dying leaf.
We meet here, dying leaves on the ground.
We are numerous. We ignore the poem’s sound.