Quiet
A winter shrouded in a years‐long gap of jet‐black heaviness
On slightly withered evergreens and
On completely bare deciduous trees
A light snow falls equally
A light snow melts
Like the purity of the dripping droplets
A trace of weariness resided in an earnest face
There was a time of reconciliation
Isn’t it wonderful to return to nothingness
Is what I couldn’t say
Didn’t we reach an understanding
Of the severity of nothingness
Of the sorrow
Of the bitterness
A dark‐hued painting silently observed us
We won’t forget that painting
In a shallow sleep at dawn
I cry
To become free
From sound
From Light
From restraints
From expectations
To be able to go home to nothingness
I turn my wounds into white smoke
And keep breathing it out
Will I go on crumbling
Will I go on being born
Eternally, quietly
I keep breathing out smoke
Translated by Julia Hansell Clark
from“The Shore of Noon”(Shichosha Publishing Co.ltd.,2019)
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