Translating this to the spiritual regions as their wont is, the poets sang beautifully how roses fade and petals fall. The moment is brief they sang; the moment is over; one long night is then to be slept by all.

Morir por un a religión es más simple que vivirla con plenitud.

And then - thwack! - Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert's head and cracked it - slate not head - clear across.

Here they were, on the only planetary surface on which you could walk freely, naked to the wind and the sun, and when they had a choice, they sat in boxes and stared at littler boxes, just as if they had no choice-as if they were in a space station-

Written By Kim Stanley Robinson

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