Yesterday, I dreamed that,
Providentia foretold the right path for the
apple,
Plutus was beyond the paradise,
Muse is nowhere distant.
Today, the mirror reflects,
A Fool, inverted in the void,
As if blindly tottering toward mirage,
Only tripping to the tartarean trench.
Tomorrow, what will be there?
Belphegor that corrodes into the soul,
A commoner that Matthews prophesied,
Or a camel that can’t go through the eye of
the needle.
But the day after, none of them varies,
All from the Earth, all back to Earth,
Nothing can last forever,
The end is always the same equality.
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