The Scurf is worn away, of each committed Crime

Mrs. McLash was dressed for travelling. She wore a black lustre skirt that just exposed her broken button-boots […]

English words and thought seem too downright a medium into which to render these evanescent, half-expressed sentences and poems—vague as the misty mountain scenery of her country, with no pronouns at all, and without verb inflections.

There is that polynesian concept of aina which is, at least for me, concept of Blut and Boden on steroids.