I Want To Make A Poem Of

Again And Again, The Cicada's Untiring Cry Pierced The Sultry Summer Air Like A Needle At Work On Thick Cotton Cloth.

What Transforms This World Is - Knowledge. Do You See What I Mean? Nothing Else Can Change Anything In This World. Knowledge Alone Is Capable Of Transforming The World, While At The Same Time Leaving It Exactly As It Is. When You Look At The World With Knowledge, You Realize That Things Are Unchangeable And At The Same Time Are Constantly Being Transformed.

I Cried Sobbingly Until At Last Those Visions Reeking With Blood Came To Comfort Me. And Then I Surrendered Myself To Them, To Those Deplorably Brutal Visions, My Most Intimate Friends.

Let Us Remember That The Central Reality Must Be Sought In The Writer's Work: It Is What The Writer Chose To Write, Or Was Compelled To Write, That Finally Matters. And Certainly Mishima's Carefully Premeditated Death Is Part Of His Work.

Amid The Moon And The Stars, Amid The Clouds Of The Night, Amid The Hills Which Bordered On The Sky With Their Magnificent Silhouette Of Pointed Cedars, Amid The Speckled Patches Of The Moon, Amid The Temple Buildings That Emerged Sparkling White Out Of The Surrounding Darkness - Amid All This, I Was Intoxicated By The Pellucid Beauty Of Uiko's Treachery.