Sawao Yamanaka – the burn bread in my clear sea

from Discharge

I don’t like her.
She knows.
I don’t like him.
He knows.
I don’t like you.
You know.
I don’t like myself.
I know.
But I don’t close a window.
Because I see.

The sky was too blue.
Because the sun was
too shining for that.
My clear sea
Clear fish are swimming
gently there.
Everyone tries to fish that.
But it can’t be fished.

She doesn’t like me.
I know.
He doesn’t like me.
I know.
You don’t like me.
I know.
I don’t like myself.
You know.
It has the smell by
which bread burned again.