If those who have already committed suicide and are dead were to become alive once again and speak, they would probably talk of the actuality of this… - Sakutarō Hagiwara

I close my eyes
and try to chew the root of some grass
to suck the juice of some grass to suck the bitter juice of melancholy
indeed there's no hope for anything there
life's just a series of meaningless melancholies

Some people say my poetry is sensual. It may be that some are like that. Still, a correct view opposes it. Nothing "sensual" can be the motive of my poetry. It is a chord over the keynote. Or an ornament. I am not a man who can get intoxicated on the senses. What I truly try to sing of is different. It is that atmosphere—the sound of a fife you hear on a spring night. It is not the senses, not a passion, not an excitement, but simply the nostalgia of a cloud that quietly drifts in the shadow of a soul. It is a tearful yearning for a reality far, far away.

[A]ll philosophers must surrender to the poet when they arrive at the end of their intellectual exploration. Only the universe that the poet intuits far above the common senses is the true metaphysical reality.