I have made poetry for a long time but I have less and less confidence in it. Someone like me is no more than a miserable blue cat's nightmare. - Sakutarō Hagiwara

During the long illness and pain,
spiders have covered his face with webs,
his body below the waist has faded like a shadow,
a bush has grown above his waist,
arms rotten,
body all over, truly messed up,
oh, today again the moon is out,
the daybreak moon is out,
and in the opaque light like a lantern
a deformed white dog is howling.

From cause-and-effect's destiny's fixed law's
miserable
dry plate of a landscape on which despair has frozen
run away the pale shadow.

Behold all sins have been inscribed,
yet not all are mine,
verily manifest to me are
only phantoms of blue flames without shadows,
only the ghosts of pathos that fade off over the snow,
ah painful confession on such a day what shall I make of them,
all are but phantoms of blue flames.