At night in the city
from thousands of wounds
blood comes pouring out.
It comes flowing into the canal
that is stagnant, dully,
where the bridge is suspended.
The bridge is neither going forward into a future
nor coming from a past,
just from the opposite shore, to this shore,
it is only hanging
over a dead current
and just fastening together two nights.
When night becomes late, over there at its top
and aged man and a young woman come
and, without appearing confident,
casually hug one another.
- Shiro Murano, trans. Edith Marcombe Shiffert and Yuki Sawa.