Katherine
The parabola thrown
from the woman
to the hedge
is the lifeline of
a man who yearns for beautiful human solitude
The Greek goddesses too try to avoid
the line
At the end of December and into January
it gets extremely lonely here
The concrete road
as wide as the Champs-Elysées
runs beyond the racetrack thrown away toward Meguro
to Kakinokizaka
its backdrop a wonderful evening sun
the mountains of Sagami undulating black
If you saw this sunset sky
you would as I do
feel so lonely you'd be moved to tears for
the infinitude of love the solitude of man the origin of human seeds
The apricot sunset
The woman like dew
becomes a shadow like a wildcat
From spring to summer from summer to autumn
on this concrete road
human beings were awfully talkative
The dreams to be dreamed are exhausted and life is uselessly solitary
blackthorn bloomed
fructified again and my dear man came
made gin and left
If I go a little further turn off the road
and go down to the valley I know that among frost columns
thistles are budding and yet
I keep walking straight to the west
Next to the store selling stamps with the head of the queen of Antigua
a flower shop
had mistletoe branches piled on the roadside
A Polynesian woman in boots wearing kasuri pants
was fumbling around
“At Christmastime I sold them you know
to Americans A branch for 100 yen
Now I can give you one for 10 yen”
The branches like dark blue rubber
had transparent yellow berries
like salmon eggs
“So you know that heh-heh-heh-heh-heh”
She was pleased how vegetable
the Western mythologies are
About the time the afternoon assumed the look of
a withered rose leaf I discovered an antique shop
Between an oil stove and a brass bed
there happened to be in a frame a picture
of a Walton by an eighteenth-century painter
The portrait of a boy on his way back from fishing
yes that country boy wearing
a silk hat with a feather as blue
as a gentian flower those daces
that silk line that float as
light as your earring
Dangling the small fish skewered on a willow branch
he is looking at the buyer
is dreaming up the fish that got away
Oh well I don't think I'll send you this letter
from the woman
to the hedge
is the lifeline of
a man who yearns for beautiful human solitude
The Greek goddesses too try to avoid
the line
At the end of December and into January
it gets extremely lonely here
The concrete road
as wide as the Champs-Elysées
runs beyond the racetrack thrown away toward Meguro
to Kakinokizaka
its backdrop a wonderful evening sun
the mountains of Sagami undulating black
If you saw this sunset sky
you would as I do
feel so lonely you'd be moved to tears for
the infinitude of love the solitude of man the origin of human seeds
The apricot sunset
The woman like dew
becomes a shadow like a wildcat
From spring to summer from summer to autumn
on this concrete road
human beings were awfully talkative
The dreams to be dreamed are exhausted and life is uselessly solitary
blackthorn bloomed
fructified again and my dear man came
made gin and left
If I go a little further turn off the road
and go down to the valley I know that among frost columns
thistles are budding and yet
I keep walking straight to the west
Next to the store selling stamps with the head of the queen of Antigua
a flower shop
had mistletoe branches piled on the roadside
A Polynesian woman in boots wearing kasuri pants
was fumbling around
“At Christmastime I sold them you know
to Americans A branch for 100 yen
Now I can give you one for 10 yen”
The branches like dark blue rubber
had transparent yellow berries
like salmon eggs
“So you know that heh-heh-heh-heh-heh”
She was pleased how vegetable
the Western mythologies are
About the time the afternoon assumed the look of
a withered rose leaf I discovered an antique shop
Between an oil stove and a brass bed
there happened to be in a frame a picture
of a Walton by an eighteenth-century painter
The portrait of a boy on his way back from fishing
yes that country boy wearing
a silk hat with a feather as blue
as a gentian flower those daces
that silk line that float as
light as your earring
Dangling the small fish skewered on a willow branch
he is looking at the buyer
is dreaming up the fish that got away
Oh well I don't think I'll send you this letter
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