In the Furnace
Into the furnace of a storm,
All worldly treasures melt away.
Your gigantic anger,
Your holy hope,
Your accumulated wealth,
Even your piles of debt—
Thus,
It seems we are born anew.
Yet, we are not born anew.
Inside the storm-like furnace,
Everything melts.
It seems we are born anew...
Yet we are not born anew.
The beginning is now the beginning of the past,
The end is now the end of the past,
Hope is now the hope of the past,
Achievement is now the achievement of the past.
The blade of grass is cut down,
It seems to vanish.
Yet the blade of grass is born anew.
The grass of the past
No longer exists.
But the furnace
Exists forever.
"We shall meet again in heaven!"
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