Improvised while Living in the Outskirts of the Capital
Ancient temples with their thousand pines, taken over for army camps;
one shack of bundled grass where my thoughts are cut off from the world:
coarse bedding here in the mist—it serves as a chilly seat;
pair of clogs caked with snow—they do for idle strolling.
Morning after morning priestesses offer music to the gods;
night after night the old men nearby chant the Buddha's name;
forty years and more, nothing but this—
in the dark I clap my hands, laugh at the life I lead.
one shack of bundled grass where my thoughts are cut off from the world:
coarse bedding here in the mist—it serves as a chilly seat;
pair of clogs caked with snow—they do for idle strolling.
Morning after morning priestesses offer music to the gods;
night after night the old men nearby chant the Buddha's name;
forty years and more, nothing but this—
in the dark I clap my hands, laugh at the life I lead.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.