Backside

Chika Sagawa (1911–1935)

Night eats color,
Flower bouquets lose their fake ornaments.
Day falls into the leaves like sparkling fish
And struggles, like the lowly mud,
The shapeless dreams and trees
Nurtured outside this shriveled, deridable despair.
And the space that was chopped down
Tickles the weeds there by its feet.
Fingers stained with tar from cigarettes
Caress the writhing darkness.
And then the people move forward.


夜将色彩吞噬，
花束失去它们虚假的装饰。
白昼如闪亮的鱼般沉落到树叶间
努力着，像是谦逊的泥浆*,
无形的梦，以及在它
那枯萎可笑的绝望中滋生的树木。
被斩碎的空间
搔弄着那些杂草的根部。
被香烟熏黑的手指
抚慰着正承受煎熬的黑暗。
人们接着前行。


*（I saw people use "humble lowly mud", but don't know where it comes from）


To face the truth- Pet Shop boys