ye whose Master blames fiction and fancy, blame on 汝の主が虚構と幻想を非難するなら、それを非難すれば良い 英語詩

make no mistake that we tell talers,

dream peddlars, and so called philospher-poets

deal only in falsehood and untruth,

verily, do not disbelieve when they exclaim

that there is no worth in fancy things

we word-sowers and yarn-spinners, narcissistic, no doubt all are nightly masturbators (self-conjugator of modern Hermaphrodite)

that shoot forth vain seeds upon non existing fields, and receive no boon from real earth, all is vain.

and Truth, the progress of Science, must not by fantasitical lights and colours be thwarted

must all bitter fruits of human imagination

born of vines to Truth relent, though

as all lies and pretensions struggle to confuse and amaze the real, for a moment

the universe seems to be struck into a pause,  thence still as if in still cold death, by the implications of all childish notes

and though the wheel of cold Sun carries on in search of more real and truthful things, with fancies crushed underneath

its swollen belly forever bears the ponderous weight of fiction, sown through seeds of imagined pain

so each moment human passion and dream calls conscience back to youthful thinking, ideals, fantasy

and the panting earth, veiled in eternal darkness, 

her golden illumination, in twilight, the phatasmatic dream.

only a poet, a lier; a philosopher, a pretender. so let it be.

let my lying truth through its deserving beauty, falsehood to become.

and progress itself along with all things certain and true; the progress of humanity, till both fancy and science reach the end of Infinity.

where the truer and shriller music extend her hand to, in the mind, inexhaustible sorrow's well

so all things humane that searched in vain among fantastic dreams, reach cloudless blue sky, and would wander no more.

...

lying is better than speaking against the truth inside your heart

it poetry could tell a moment of gold from an eternity of dust, let the flute of Pan play on.

I am the apologist of every sad Song. May each cold sorrow find peace in hot tears.