The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

the explosion of Krakatoa. It was only that no one
noticed. We are too accustomed to the absurdity of
existence. The loss of a universe is not worth taking
seriously.
Happenings are the signals for endless
reconstruction, reorganization. Signals from a distant
bell. A ship appears and sets the bell to ringing. In an
instant the sound makes everything its own. On the
sea they are incessant, the bell is forever ringing.
A being.
It need not be a ship. A single bitter orange,
appearing no one knows when. It is enough to set the
bell to ringing.
Three thirty in the afternoon. A single bitter orange
represented being on the Bay of Suruga.
Hidden by a wave and appearing again, floating
and sinking, like a ceaselessly blinking eye, the bright
dot of orange floated slowly off toward the east
through the ripples in near the shore.
Three thirty-five. Somberly, a black hull appeared
from the west, from the direction of Nagoya.
The sun was behind clouds, like a smoked salmon.
Tōru Yasunaga looked away from the thirtypower
telescope.
There was no sign yet of the cargo ship Tenrō-