With age, the wise grow down,
they stop grooming themselves,
stop changing their clothes.
There is a village of them
on the other side of the ocean,
I left them there,
far away so I wouldn't hear
One is diminishing under the bask [...]
When I lift a bar of soap to my face
it is winter. They drag a pig to its slaughter,
empty its intestines in the river,
they fill them with blood
thickened with rice, barley, and spice.
From scraps, they make soap.
Then it is summer.
Always there is [...]