Suffering does not destroy what makes suffering possible; life does not do away with the self’s art of illusion. In the space of a life, the shellfish that pass through the cracks in the rock are a hidden, infinitesimal music, which a huge band is now playing, and the people march from the cracks toward a magnificent future. Yes, it is true, light will scatter from the lowliest of places, and all the ugliest of smells are omens of war, but I sit on the rubbish pile singing, singing a song about the marriage of plastic and fire, a song that will sing the recluse underground up to the surface. When he comes to the surface the flowerless fruit will bloom, the shells will offer a path that loops back, and everything once again will descend, repeating until infinity. Just like this, he says, suffering does not destroy what makes suffering possible.

痛苦不会摧毁痛苦的可能性，生命

不会消失自我的幻觉术。在一生的

时间里，穿越过岩石缝隙里的贝类

是潜藏的隐微的音乐，那是宏大的

乐队在奏响，人们正从缝隙里行军

去往伟大的未来。是的，光明将从

最卑微处散发，所有最恶劣的气味

是大战乱的征兆。我坐在垃圾堆上

唱歌，唱一支关于塑料和火结婚的

歌。这支歌将唱响至地底的孤独者

升起。他升起时，无花果树将开花，

贝壳将给出回环的路径，一切再次

降临，并反复以至于无穷。是这样；

他说：痛苦不会摧毁痛苦的可能性。