prose poem 散文詩 「Kokoro」

Truly, what am I. A master of masquerade?
Wonderful host of dance and playing of children's pretending games.
Ah, perhaps I should ask more weird spirits to be guest in my invisible house.
Under the sunlight, reclines the man with his elbow supporting his big head,
nodding off, it seems like a big green knoll.
beneath the top of the knoll, lies the abyss of an idiot.
I am the idiot who knows how to dance and play.
Perhaps sing too.
in the black cauldron beneath the grass and moss-covered scalp,
lies the eternal hell of damnation of all damnations.

Ah, I am a fool, always have been.
 A fool, and a fool, maybe three fools.
never a poet, never a philosopher, never God, never Shaytan.
Three fools are we, perhaps one more?
Dionysos Tres-Tetra-meg-astus?
Mucc-an DubhBakkos?
Omnidoloris? whose dolor and whose "is"?
I am only an idiot! Only an idiot!
Who knows how to dance, sing
or play a game.
I have never lost a single match.
For now.