Author: The book "A Future of Ice", by Kenji Miyazawa (1896-1933). Translated by Hioaki Sato.

Aura is the light body or psychic energy field. Everyone of us is surrounded by a field of aura. But a dead body does not have one. Aura is a conscious body with divine energy.

Poem, from "Spring & Asura" (First Collection)


The phenomenon called "I"
is a blue illumination
of the hypothesised, organic alternating current lamp
(a compound of all transparent ghosts)
a blue illumination
of the karmic alternating current lamp
which flickers busily, busily
with landscapes, with everyone
yet remains lit with such assuredness
(the light persists, the lamp lost).

In the twenty-two months, which I perceive
lie in the direction of the past
I have linked these pieces on paper with mineral ink
(they flicker with me,
everyone feels them simultaneously)
each a chain of shadow and light,
mental sketches as they are,
which have been kept until now.

About these, the man, the galaxy, Asura, or the sea urchin,
eating cosmic dust, breathing air or salt water,
may each think up a fresh ontology,
but any one of them too will be no more than a scene in the mind.
Yet certainly these landscapes recorded here
are as they are recorded;
if they represent nothing, that's the way nothing is;
to some degree this holds true of everyone
(because just as everything is everyone in me,
so I am everything in everyone).
But while these words, supposed to have been copied correctly
in the accumulation of the vast bright times
of the Cenozoic era and alluvial epoch,
already change their structures and contents
in the light and shadow that's equal to a dot
(or in Asura's billion years)
the tendency could be there
that both the printer and I
perceive them as unchangeable.
Because, just as we perceive our senses,
landscapes and personalities,
just as we all merely perceive them,
so the records and histories, or the history of the earth,
together with their various data
(under the temporal, spatial restrictions of karma),
are no more than what we perceive.
Perhaps, two thousand years from now,
an appropriately different geology may win the time,
apposite evidence may turn up successively from the past,
everyone may think that two thousand years ago
colorless peacocks filled the blue sky,
fresh bachelors of arts may excavate
wonderful fossils somewhere from the glittering frozen nitrogen
at the top stratum of the atmosphere,
or discover in a stratification plane
of Cretaceous sandstone
the enormous footsteps of an invisible mankind.

All these propositions are asserted
in the four-dimensional extension
as the attributes of imagination and time.