Pathway to Japanese Literature

706: Village Maiden

1926, 5, 2,

The shadow of a bird passing over the field

Vividly blue-green gleaming mountain ridges

Crushing snow greens' bolting stalks by hand

While listening to the skylark and the river

In reality, people and things narrate

709: Spring

1926, 5, 2,

The sun shone and birds sang.

The oak groves here and there,

when hazy,

the creaking dirty palm,

I will be carrying this from now on.

711: Water Drawing

1926, 5, 15,

Thickly sprouted miscanthus buds
Glowing crimson
Casting shadows upon one another
If you walk upon them—like a carpet of unknowable distance—
Glistening spread of miscanthus buds

...drawing water and sprinkling it on the sand...

The cold wind’s sea serpent
countless winding path after path
threading through wild rose thickets
ascends the river diagonally.

...drawing water and sprinkling it on the sand...

On the opposite bank,
Johann in blue robes descended,
gathering horsetail spores.
...drawing water and sprinkling it on the sand...
When they reached the shore,
another new serpent
...drawing water and drawing water...
The distant clouds became several loaves -
it was about time they changed into bread and sold.

714: Fatigue

1926, 6, 18,

The southern wind was sour,

The wheat ears gleamed green, aching.

And yet

On the cliff above,

going out of their way for today's clear weather,

they came out from the western mountain base, it was said.

The black enormous standing statues

with rubies or something embedded in their foreheads,

three of them stood waiting.

With three of that tireless sort

to exchange lines with all my might,

perhaps placing a hand on that cloud -

should I go capture some electricity?

715: [By the Roadside Brushwood]

1926, 6, 20,

By the roadside brushwood
I stopped by aimlessly and brushed against it,
When I turned toward the stark white wind,
Here and there were dark village groves
And flowers in full bloom lying fallen everywhere.
Rain-soaked rice plants stood out against black clouds.

Over there had earlier cast sharp sidelong glances
or perhaps avoided mocking words
Despite being dozens of gloomy villages,
What was making my heart pound so foolishly
What could possibly be making my heart pound like this?
The lone hope I had pursued along this path that morning had vanished,
Now even the eastern sky was faintly beginning to brighten,
It was merely that much, and yet...
Still more violently
As if there were some splendid reason or something—
Why was it that my chest pounded?
At the field's edge, the horse-drawn cart stood small.
People tapered thinly into sharp points, smoldering.

718: Snake Dance

1926, 6, 20,

With this budding willow branch

I gave its head a little tap.

Tapped, it swayed sluggishly around,

exceedingly elegant yet clumsy.

Though not a rattlesnake,

the one that rasped its tail—

even if it wasn't a rattlesnake,

the snake seemed to rattle its tail.

Blue.

Blue.
The patterns were blue and impressive,
There was also a splendid rhythm.
Yes—that pose.
The present theme was

One might term it “a white-glaring assault.” In the end was the pale peach-colored mouth opened wide—the actor’s mannerism halfway through what’s called striking a dramatic pose. I gave it a few more splish-splash taps. Today I worked with stable manure, so I ended up reaching out even to snakes. “But O serpent, somehow when I tease you, it feels like I’m eating a sour tomato. Is it you who’s trying to escape?” In that case, I too would make my escape.

718: Well

1926, 7, 8,

From here I shouldered the weeding hoe and went,
plunged into the cabbage field,
and it was neither religion nor physical education -
something like a blend of work's driving force with wind and sunlight,
because of that hot sour opium,
two and a half hours passed in an instant.

When that wore off,

the surroundings were erased by a net of white light,

I came back to this point
and gulped down water.

726 Landscape

1926, 7, 14,

When Matsumori's azure sky cast its halo,
a prefectural assembly member with one black cheek

He came walking alone, slowly.

Across the hills covered all over with fern and oak,

This year, too, blazed the iris flowers.

727 [From the Acacia Tree’s Western Lamp]

1926, 7, 14,

From the acacia tree's Western lamp

In wind and drowsiness
At the hour when morning dew and evening primrose flowers both wilted
Wearing a demon-poppy-patterned kimono

A child playing at Inanuma's edge
728 [A Sudden Downpour Pours]

1926, 7, 15,

The sudden downpour poured,

Steam from the soil rose in a rush.

Ah, in the thickly rising steam,

I seethed alone at my work.

……Withered fern leaves,

Wild rose roots,

The broken and scattered tower

Now busily circling ants...

The cedar channeled the sudden rain's flow

The cedar once more sent up faint white spray.

730 [The End]

1926, 8, 8,

“In the end,

the head priest of Shaman Mountain's seventh peak

adorned in a brocade and crystal-studded kesa

“He himself came out to admonish them, they say.”

A band of river where blue luminous haze drifted and fluttered

That angular Tungus-type ochre profile

730-2 Flooding

1926, 8, 15,

Under the wickedly glinting clouds,

the Kitakami River—twice its width and likely tenfold in volume—

was churning up yellow waves.

All iron boats had been towed to my humble shed.

The motorboat chugged ton-ton.

Water came surging up from downstream.

The fields along the old river course had all turned to marshes.

The bean fields disappeared from view.

Half the mulberry fields already lay ruined.

Glowing like snail trails,

the grasslands beneath pine trees that remained as islands

encircled the cabbage field.

When did they come and how?
At that tepid yet terrifying shore,
darkly floating, four or five people stand there.
One holds a net.
Fūsuke too is there, wearing work trousers.
The water has already—
has it stolen away this autumn's provisions of mine?

I climbed onto the roof and surveyed.

The bundles of stable manure had all been carried to higher ground.

The hoe and basket were earlier submerged waist-deep in water.

They barely managed to reclaim them.

731 [Yellow Flowers Also Bloom]

1926, 8, 20,

Yellow flowers also bloomed,

Every variety of color had materialized,

Embankments packed with earth-clutching growth

They were scratching away with rakes to clear them.

The river, at that rapid over there,

Flowed nine tons of needles every second.

"Look up above!"

“Hurl stones!”

The pure white sky was full.

The shrike tapped its arrow-feathers and moved on.

733 Rest

1926, 8, 27,

Red-stalked grass and

buttercups

"I am a brown bear. Resign yourself!

Distant clouds as several loaves

It’s about when they’re changed into bread and sold.

Ahaha, Uddana!"

Enough with the jokes.

Someone's ribs

To tickle with a bare blade—such a thing

734 [Burning Corn with Blue Smoke]

1926, 8, 27,

Burning corn with blue smoke
I heaped Ponderosa on plates too

If one looked at the chrysocolla on young cedar tips,

this should have been a cheerful, bountiful morning repast,

That I was so unsettled—
today again, the task of turning over the storm-ravaged riverside field
filled my chest with hesitation.
……enameled cloud birds' voices……

Forced into it—one
I plucked the thick crimson corn silks
When I peeled those water-colored pods
That burning, agonizing work
Felt like some faint occurrence from a century past.

735 Banquet

1926, 9, 3,

I was chewing sour cucumbers with a rhythmic crunch.
Everyone was drinking sake.

...The earthen bridge was completed on a cloudy morning,
now dull blue smoke from burning wood
crept over the entire rice field.
At the edge of that weir—on cedars and oaks—
rain pounded down in torrents……

Everyone drank sake collected from landowners and those exempt from corvée labor.
They drank the collected sake.
...unwittingly,
they absentmindedly mentioned types of rice.
Am I on the Tianshan North Road...?
Just now, ten times,
they were made to carry that red gravel.
A frail-looking child with a swollen face
at the wooden floor behind everyone
sat eating somen.

The child sat eating somen.

("Plant clover and rice will grow," they say,
"but even binding straw won't make it in time.")

The child stops eating wheat.
The child steals a furtive glance this way.

736 [Two Fragments of Thick Clouds]

1926, 9, 5,

Two thick cloud fragments
skimmed past Shaman Mountain.
(What had they spewed forth?)
(Thunder over the Lake: The Marrying Maiden, Line Three!)
Beyond, the sun shone coldly
through serpentinite's blue saw.

738 Distant Work

1926, 9, 10,

Pampas grass flowers and beyond the dark woods,

A different variety of wind resounded.

Within the lattice of the azure sun and glaringly crimped clouds,

The wind carried an uncanny scent and quivered.

Reflecting the sky, an empty river and—

The tile factory emitted faint black smoke

On the platform behind it,

Crisply clear and resonant once more,

If one could hear it here in these fields,

That work seemed enjoyable and bright,

But in the evening Chūichi from there—

He returned exhausted and angry.

739 [The Fog's So Thick My Hands Are Freezing...]
1926, 9, 13,

The fog was so thick my hands froze...

...The horse's thighs kept quivering...

"Throw me the rope! The rope!"

...The pampas plumes hung heavy with frost...

Ah, if only sunlight would break through...

The pheasant is calling—the pheasant is!
In your house—nothing—
……through the house where no one remains
foraging for food and striding about

Could it be the pheasant crying out…?

740 Autumn

1926, 9, 23,

Half a ri from the foot of Ezuriko Forest
In the rough yet sweet wind beneath cumulus congestus clouds
In the midst of ripened rice stalks and waves of crimson pampas plumes

There, the Nabekura Upper Cooperative’s
elders disguised as beggars

This morning they had gathered and were waiting
The feared year's harvest drew near
Migratory birds crossed in succession
From the glass-like berries in the wild rose thicket
The wind etched gentian flowers
......The village path stretched white in a single line......
At last beyond layered woods
Red torii and Subaru's mound
In each field's ripened rice plants
We counted a hundred differing factors
We spent this day circling—

From the bluish-white buckwheat flowers

When bees carry the last of their nectar

In the scent of marumero and the swirling wind

Half a ri from the foot of Ezuriko Forest

On the bank of the grassy field where raindrops fall

The elderly of Upper Nabekura

This morning they gathered and waited.

741 Smoke

1926, 10, 9,

Upstream,

From the brick factory’s chimney,

Smoke continued into the clouds,

spread out at the chimney's base,

on a bluish-white shale slab

searched for pointed walnut fossils,

old beast footprints

took them from faintly turbid murmuring water.

Two summers had passed between -

I spent those afternoons after each day's fieldwork,

Even though I spent those afternoons playing happily with the students,

Now the mountains stood dark on all sides.

The brick factory had once gone completely bankrupt.

From the brick factory’s chimney,
What were they burning?
Black smoke billowed up thickly,
blending into clouds filling the sky.
The platinum-hued horizon too—

The platinum-colored edge of the sky gradually narrowed.

741 Cabbage Field

Frost filled the field's sand entirely.

The row of entasis columns

All cast water-colored shadows.

Ten-odd nights and days

During those days when they ailed and struggled,

In this cold air,

A thousand Zhifu cabbages

they became artillery shells on the verge of bursting

The seven hundred Baotou cabbages

they formed splendid bread shapes

This was where those who had crossed Senba passed through—a place everyone used along the riverbank in either direction or toward the cliffside. People said growing vegetables here would surely lead to theft. Yet no one stole them. In season they naturally matured thus; mornings found them cloaked in pure white frost while Hayachine Yakushi too stood pure white with snow. The river exploded violently at times—sending up indeterminate vapor as it kept burning and extinguishing itself—relentlessly flowing needles downstream.

It relentlessly flows needles.
Even when ill,
or even if they were to die,
as for all those remaining,
still the river continues to flow.
What a good thing this is!

Ah, this hushed field...
But since I
pulled the rake
and entered this sandy soil,
I had not heard a single sound—
or perhaps I could not hear it,

A massive clump of steam
now passed through the sun's surface;
the blue shadows of the column row vanished—
though even then，the sand had darkened...

742 Farm Road

October 10, 1926,

Water frost

Frost clung thick to the grass blades along the path,

The wheels too were washed clean.

That the trees and bushes clattered clattered clattered clattered—

Those heavy, cold droplets

They were in the very act of falling now.

The fog formed into a massive clump

The fog flowed across the sun's surface.

Earlier, steam had been rising from the river like flames.

This was the aftermath of that tremendous steam.

The bronchi wheezed terribly.

To such a wheezing chest

I want to drink a bit of shochu

I want to eat steamed potatoes.

Leaving hearts in town,

The elderly people who had sold vegetables

They had all returned down this slope.

743 [To the Roots of the Stolen Cabbage]

1926, 10, 13,

[To the Roots of the Stolen Cabbage]

Inserting one miscanthus ear after another

Is that Japanism?

Taking on a water-blue hue,

The row of entasis columns

Upon those remaining Suiko-era foundation stones

When one miscanthus ear after another stands planted,

Each time thieves pass through,

Swaying in the early winter wind, glistening in the sun,

They are indeed mocking that,

And that is Japanese thought

Is this the triumph of Iyasaka-ism?

1001 [The Platform Dazzlingly Cold]

1927, 2, 12,

The platform was dazzlingly cold.
Signals painted green,
Through glittering flying ice crystals...

Ah, unyieldingly the scholar had aged,
He was now the renowned national physician of the metropolis.

He was seeing off an old friend.

……at the end of those glittering ice crystals,

small cloth travel bags and such

When the fish packages were unloaded,

The whistle sounded faintly; smoke streamed away.

The scholar's shadow vanished behind him.

That window was quietly locked

The ice crystals were lead-colored.

A glittering ice tree stood

Azure-hazed mountains and clouds

At the edge of the town they passed one after another

The sunlight now belonged to a quiet winter.

The train compartment held a wan glass fragrance.

With disheveled hair and wearing a black necktie,

A photographer sleeping in the morning light
The eastern window—tiny dust particles suspended and—

That beautiful Tyndall effect

The passengers modestly exchanged seats.

They opened the February panel in both hands.
They shifted quietly to the eastern window.
A small clinic equipped with Ichii’s enclosed pond,
The ceramic marker gate at an angle,
The passengers bore earnest expressions on their faces.
When they bowed deeply in gratitude for the special treatment,
Mulberries and pears alike were laden with ice crystals.

1003 Laboratory Vignette

1927, 2, 18,

(So this is where I am.)

Beakers, flasks, Bunsen burners,

(The immobile presence of this plaster)

The hearth groaned all by itself,

the yellow clock hobbled along, dragging its leg.

(There were so many glass Erlenmeyer flasks.)

(That was a reflux condenser.)

(That's an awfully big cup)
(How about you handle a full measure of caustic potash?)
(Hmph)

Snow-reflected light and poplar treetops
Moving across the sky were Oparin-like clouds—
Or perhaps fine fragments of ice—
(When it comes to analysis, can you handle anything?)
(Ah, where matter is concerned...)
(Hahaha! Today I'm being quite modest—)
(Just like Newton!)
(You—Newton was physics.)

(Either way, I'm just one step away)

If I became a professor and earned a doctorate,

(I might even make baron)

(Hey you—the assistant's watching)

A thermostat puffing steam

(I can't see any sign of spring coming)

(No—when it comes, it comes all at once.)

(The speed of spring was another matter entirely)

(The speed of spring felt peculiar!)

(Those literary dilettantes would never grasp it—

Fundamentally spring

was a sequence of meteorological factors)

(First sending out half-formed cords

finally dropping eightfold cherry blossoms

Once it passed through that locus

speed would manifest there)

(If I keep saying such things,
my papers would probably get all flimsy.)
(My papers would probably be crisp.)

△

(What time can we go out together?)

(Four o'clock works.)

(One more hour.)

(Ah—am I just fooling around in the greenhouse?)

Once it’s done I’ll take a look.

(The assistant shows me all sorts of things.)

(Well then, let's do that.)

(That cabinet by the entrance...)

(Ah, right...

I can manage pulling it alone.

Can't have it left wide open.)

I can manage pulling it alone.

(I can't stand leaving things wide open!)

1005 [On the snow under the dull moonlight]

1927, March 15,

On the snow under the dull moonlight
The shadow of the pine rows spread out.
By day it would have been blue,
Yet even now remained a mother-of-pearl mosaic shadow.
Even such a huge pine branch lay fallen -
It had broken from that recent sleet.
There, unmistakably, the field’s snow was melting.
Onions and Penstemon:
Some strange tangled-vine pattern
Covered the entire seedbed.
The river matched the mouse-gray sky -
Had it glided soundlessly south
Ah, to the east lay crinkled winds and Gorin Pass and—

Clouds were cloyingly sweet as if about to burst into tears.
The pines were kelp and alcohol.
The mottled grassland exhaled drowsiness.
Hayachine slept beyond the haze.
All the way to Minakami,
Through the dark, penetrating wind
River plovers were calling and ascending upstream.
From the direction of the town's polarized light came the barks of dogs.
The wind now changed into cold Iron Vic.

1008 [They must be digging the soil too]

1927, March 16,

They must be digging the soil.

They must sometimes go without food.

And yet,

You all are still you all,
and we are still we.

...The mountain was a blizzard's dim light...

I had heard it many times,

I still hear it now,

Eventually, it would come to pass exactly as such.
There truly was no other way.
...The forest became a pale blizzard’s corona...
In the depths of all disappointments and illnesses,
I too found myself nodding in agreement.

1012 [Kōsuke: This Morning While Still Dark]

1927, March 21,

Kōsuke

This morning while still dark,

he went off all alone to do rope work for wages.

……The alder trees all wore frost blossoms,

the field shimmers with dazzling white polarized light...

Golden-lion-colored riding breeches on,

carrying a new indigo furoshiki,

he went off swinging his empty hands like he was the boss, 'twas.

...What hazes in scattered patches over the snow...

Mitsu-Sawayama's pine clusters...

From Shimizuno-gara to Ōmagari-no-gara to Gotōno-do—

he swaggered alone,

striding on with great steps, off he goes then.

"When I get across, it's ore sortin' I tell ya, haulin' I tell ya."

“At night, they make me sleep just a smidge in some hut corner.
I’m naught but a common laborer, see.”

……Ebizuko Forest……
Billowing steam fierce enough,
Like some lump of glacial acid……
That was when Gotōno’s storms raged hardest.

1014 Spring

1927, March 23,

The field held remnants of mottled snow and

the Yomikigawa River darkly gliding.

Clouds trailed their wanton tails,

the Haramiya Mountain sinking in deep blue—

when they skimmed over pine treetops to cross,

the mountain's far side grew turbid and dark:

two white rods of light,

the faintly alluring hue of bamboo grass.

The field became mottled porcelain snow and

the Yomikigawa River warming, gliding.

1015 [A Bucket Rising]

1927, March 23,

The bucket rose,

From within the shadow of a lead-colored gauche quadrilateral

now holding sunlit waves

Emerging into the sunlight
There —a single petal—
—sensual shell—
—Helichrysum’s corolla……
A single moth lay fallen.
From water’s smooth strong surface tension
Trying to free its four wings
The moth was writhing desperately.
—and many tiny bubbles……
I am this charger toward early spring
The sharp-pointed vanguard of lepidopteran swarms
Into the warmly glowing sea of energy
I must set forth again
Already a small mist of water
Scale-powder bubbles Iridescent Essence

The spring moth
Alone, it splashes the water violently
It takes flight.
It takes flight.
It takes flight.

Now already between cedar's tea-colored tassels
It navigated through amorphous clouds.

1017 Land Reclamation

1927, March 27,

Through the wild rose thicket,

When they had finally cleared it,

The sun was blazing down,

The sky gaped hollow and dark.

I, Taichi, and Chūsaku

Just like that, we tumbled into the bamboo grass,

We wanted to sleep so badly, snoring away.

The river was flowing nine tons of needles per second.

Many herons flew eastward.

1019 Sapporo City

1927, March 28,

Distant cascading ashen light and

Amidst the freight train's vibrations

I transformed the welling sadness
into tattered azure myths;
at Pioneer Memorial Elm Square
I scattered them with all my strength—
but the birds did not peck at them.

1022 [When I came in April of the year before last]

1927, April 1,

When I came in April of the year before last,

you swung the heavy hoe,

digging up butterbur roots,

cutting bolted stems,

the snowmelt wind soaring through morning sun—

the sky brimmed with birdsong,

ten thousand and again a hundred million

over newly turned clods

each casting black shadows,

while from cedar groves

the pure-white-maned Saint Heavy-Draft Horse

stealthily descended to fields,

bushy hairs around its hooves glistening.

When I went out last spring,

you were at the riverbank

A lukewarm southern wind
flipped your carrying pole
and blew against that person’s cheeks.
In indigo-paper clouds, the sun ripened.
The river flowed lead and silver
amidst scattering poplar catkins.
You dug ridge after ridge
while people like precious offerings
brought cow dung,
as the wind blew and blew from downstream.
The cabbage seedlings had wilted slightly.
The wind blew and blew the white sand,
had already formed several small sand dunes
within the fields.

And then that summer, that terrible drought came.

1025 [If Oat Seeds Are Spilled]

1927, April 4,

If oat seeds were spilled,

The sand lay deep and dark,

The black clouds hung warm and pregnant.

Piece by piece,

They waded through wild rose thickets

With tattered burlap bags hoisted as sails,

A boat came upriver,

Loaded with several empty sake barrels,

The full black current,

Blown by the fickle southern wind,

As it labored slowly upstream,

Like soldiers escorting gold coins,

Three people were aboard.

One sat clasping his knees together,

The two glared hatefully,

While watching the fields and thickets along the bank,
the two stood poised and ready.
......From those hate-filled eyes
would a new culture be born......?
In the gloomily stagnant light,
the jacket's shoulder rustled as it tore.
Upon the clouds racing furiously,
the skylark remained unwilling to come.

1028 Sake-Buying Ship

1927, April 5,

With five four-to barrels attached,

With burlap sacks hoisted as sails,

Drowsiness and wind against them,

The mountain’s lead melted forth,

Ascending against the heavy, full current,

Northern

Beneath clouds that seemed ready to burst into tears

The boat slowly made its way upstream.
All three were on board.
One person sat clasping their knees together,

The two stood staring fixedly this way.
Their truly unpleasant faces—
while he alone sang with all his might—
still showed they couldn't help being dissatisfied.

1030 An Ambiguous Discussion Concerning Spring Clouds

1927, April 5,

That black cloud,

If that black cloud startled you,

that’s crowd psychology.

Along this fifty-ri stretch of the river,

plowing wheat fields,

cutting mulberry trees,

tens of thousands like us,

the passion that had battled winter until now

transformed into melancholic yet nostalgic memories.

If they turned it into some faint hope,

their gazes with nowhere to direct

they were all casting toward that cloud.

But that wasn’t all.

That gloomy dark mass

A pendant of lukewarm water.
That was love itself.
The exchange of carbon dioxide and
deceptive spring induction—
That was love itself.

1032 [That Enormous Yorkshire Pig]

1927, April 7,

That enormous Yorkshire pig
Today it had changed into fierce golden fur
Tilting more severely than a spinning top
It ran toward the setting sun
Ran
Ran

Along the edge of the jet-black forest
It was still charging headlong
The one chasing held up a stick， her hair shining
The daughter of Japan Island’s village headman
On the keyaki tree with partially withered branches
What swayed unsteadily was the evening sun
The village headman emerged abruptly from the forest
While noisily munching on something
He shielded his eyes with a hand to look at the sky

1033 Malice

1927, April 8,

Black clouds that had been blown together during the night,
scorched by the sun ascending over mountainous terrain,

A ferociously dark morning arrived.

In that day's design for the amusement park,

the edge of those devilish clouds,

Let's use mouse and red,

an Antirrhinum shaped like a fish with its mouth open,

humble Hardy phlox -

I would use such things.

In this prefecture with no food,

I'd invest over a million yen,

ultimately fashioning a demonic lair,

there where lush color schemes belonged.

1036 Oat Sowing

1927, April 11,

Sowing white oat seeds,

As sweat spilled between,

The field's sand was dark and hot,

The thicket gloomily overcast.

Downstream lay quiet leaden water and

Smoke tangled with clouds trailing tails.

Fatigue fermented into a giant peacock -

Pine groves and horizon

Simply stretched lush green and horizontal.

1037 Residential Land

1927, April 13,

The sun at the black cloud's edge
hid behind a single spike-like protrusion
in the gravel field where lime nitrogen had been sown thickly.
A paulownia branch fell in solitude.
The sharp-nosed Manchurian pig
popped out diagonally from the shed
with lime nitrogen clinging to its head -
rooted around cabbage stems.
Inside the house, a baby left alone
slept with one eye squeezed shut.

1039 [Thinly Clouded Pale Turquoise Water]

1927, April 18,

Thinly clouded pale turquoise water

flowed through the smoke.

Since Hayachine had entered April,

twice the snow melted and twice the snow fell,

now Turkish jade floated gleaming in the sky.

At its summit,

Two streaks soar,

Within the moist mass of clouds
that woman who was said to be a Christian’s
the women belonging to Sarah’s
some strange thought
hovered vaguely—
That of faith and deceit—
appearing as a strange composite.
Truly it was
both the mountain’s revelation
and this concealed feeling of mine
I read through those clouds.

1040 [A Solar Halo Forms]

1927, April 19,

A solar halo formed.
The wind turned coldly westward.

Ah, the rake...

I'm too sleepy.

(Through enormous yellow buds,
just swimming wildly)

All cedars darken

The heat haze transforms into white steam.

Noon.

1927, April 20,

As noon had come,

Amidst the stems of withered mugwort

he sat clasping his long shins as if embracing them,

While blowing out a puff of smoke

he appeared to be looking this way.

At seventy years old, nearing six feet in height,

His swirling pure white hair and beard

First brought to mind an ancient large wood carving—

as if it had wandered out into the sun.

After the sun had risen high,

Beneath a roof covered by a large walnut,

Beneath a roof loaded with stones from Dōchōmachi,

A lone figure rose heavily.

While shouldering a hoe and looking around,

He came along this riverbank.

“Your field—rather than planting cabbages and such—

Carrots and burdock would be far better.

I’ll provide good seeds,

Why don’t we team up and grow them together?”

While saying this loudly,
suddenly—as if struck by some thought—
the eyes that had been wide open
shriveled abruptly into the distance.
In their depths, a small amber-colored fire
had smoldered for some time.
Then the deeply carved wrinkles,
those great furrows covering his entire face,
cascaded down like glaciers.
That was nothing less than
the era-hammered chronicle

A chronicle of the samurai class's hardships,
Moreover, Yin's mirror lay not far off.
It was merely spring after spring passing by.
Since there were no applications to join the promising enterprise he'd worked so hard to establish,
the elderly promoter looked on forlornly,

The pipe emitted a wisp of smoke.

He was still gazing this way.

1042 [Dōchōmachi at Dawn]

April 21, 1927,

Dōchōmachi at Dawn

A row of pale electric lights
From within a spring-tinged pale greenish-blue haze
The hazily smoldering eastern sky’s
Meerschaum stretch this way—
Leading the horse, he walked alongside me
As we made our way toward town.
Teikichi glanced sideways again.
Inside my leather case—
If it was because of the blue-tinged snow greens
That was one form of envy, but
Dry and light, they’d vanish tomorrow—
Six freshly cut
If the hyacinth spikes were the cause,
Even that was half envy—
If I didn’t grow them, that would settle it.

What strange thought
Unable to gauge what lay within me,
If one viewed it that way,
That would be looking on with apprehension.
I had to speak with greater clarity.
Were I to act normally for a while,
It would likely vanish before long.

We who came out of school
We who grew up in towns
We who had drawn monthly salaries
Our doubts toward that whole system and—
If this vague resentment
Could not be easily plucked out

At the foot of the opposite slope

Three dogs were frolicking.

A child appeared abruptly.

When I got there,

That child—
my hyacinth flowers—
the child shouting 'Give me! Give me!'
was our usual morning routine.
'Behold the new Berlin blue!'
Having slathered on thick coats himself,
the owner of that abandoned street stall
spread out the branches of that walnut tree
under the small stone roof at the back.
Wasn't he about to sleep now?

1043 Returning from the Market

1927, 4, 21,

Snow and butter

The one who came carrying was Sen’nosuke.

“Oh, good morning.”

What passes by with its head aglow
Village elder Jacob, using a branch as a cane

“It’s fine weather, isn’t it? So blue.”

The shade of the avenue trees—

The dog ran off into yellow.

“Mornin’!”

From within the morning sun
children carrying bags
all come shouting and rushing out.

1046 Fierce Horse

1927, 4, 25,

Fūsuke's manure-laden horse,

It suddenly leapt up,

its eyes turning crimson as it transformed into a dragon—

clawing frantically at the blue glass spring sky,

trying to seize it.

A clump of manure tumbled loose.

Fūsuke pressed down hard on the reins with both hands,

forcing the horse halfway against the embankment.

The horse struggled two or three more times,

then finally lowered its massive head

and abandoned its draconian metamorphosis.

Smoke-like plumes from the clouds billowed in all directions,

above the hillside where daylily buds emerged.

Magnolia flowers and the blue of haze

“Someone else’s horse thrashing about—
You don’t need to stare so much.”
“Because your hoe swung back,
the horse got so startled.”
Stooping over the spilled manure,
Fūsuke quietly resented and said,
Fūsuke had been since two days prior
in the dark stable where it was stiflingly hot,
bundling hundreds of bundles of manure—
he was completely irritated.

1048 [Pulling a Rake and Holding a Knife]

1927, 4, 26,

Pulling a rake and holding a knife,
when he came to this sandy field and looked—
along rows of greenish-blue snow greens,
a faint spring frost had settled.

The west's remaining moon was white—
A tenderly swept scent crept.
In that case—to today’s customary purchasers—
As I prepared to distribute and deliver these
These pure and beautiful offerings,
How should I arrange them together?
I stood arms crossed，gazing awhile.
Already，the east smoldered with yellow roses' mirth，
From the river bearing needles，
A warm Brahmic breath assailed.

1053 [Hey, Don't Kick It Away]

1927, 5, 3,

“Hey!”
“Don’t kick it away!”
“Don’t kick it away!”

Oh... So it finally

A crisp cochineal red
A densely packed white web of fungal hyphae
Things of such vivid color—

In this entire forest there existed no counterpart.

Ah—muscarine!

“Hey!”

“Pull taut!”

“Pull taut already!”

Above the mountains floated clouds like soda bubbles,

cold clouds fizzing like soda bubbles.

1056 [The Leader of Secret Buddhist Chants]

1927, 5, 7,

The Leader of Secret Buddhist Chants

Today, using his son and wife,
Sowing upland rice on the Kitakami riverbank,
The lukewarm south wind
came upstream along the river.

The wife of the Leader of Secret Buddhist Chants
offered dried cow dung—
now she could only revere her husband
as both Leader and benefactor,
could only revere her own husband.
A large verdigris-colored fly
circled around the cow dung.
The Leader of Secret Buddhist Chants
wore his straw hat tilted back like Amida’s halo,
clad in black pants and straw sandals,
chased after a toddling crow.
In clouds like indigo-dyed paper, the sun ripened.
The river flowed lead and silver.

The Leader of Secret Buddhist Chants

The son gazed vacantly at the poplar tree.
Pitying him for gaping his mouth,
he shouted and hurled a stone.
The poplar flowers crumbled into yellow.
The river became violent needles.
From the downstream thicket abruptly emerged
the red-haired foreign-resembling postal worker.

1058 Tram

1927, 5, 9,

A sky scattered with silver monads and

The Village Headman’s burly shoulder

...rang the bell and took the curve.

More a small copper gong than a bell...
The Hanno grove in Eastern style
stood lined along the waterway's edge.
Beyond the Hanno grove
a child in black clothes sowed phosphoric acid.
...Clanging loudly as it sped away...
A horse plowed the field and a white shirt
a chalcanthite-blue mountain ridge
wives heading into town
the Village Headman's face clouded over abruptly
...Two hinoki cypress trees passing behind...
Like a pond from which the wind had departed
now the Village Headman's face cleared completely
...Rang the bell and Ichi-san dashed...

Beyond the chestnut grove
The sound of water splashing through
And then something like light—
Crumbling laughter

1059 Reclaimed Land Inspection

1927, 5, 9,

…The cemetery’s completely changed…

"...Nah, that...we sorted all that out proper..."

"...There was a huge weeping cherry right here..."

"...Nah, that..."

"The whole youth group pitched in to handle it."

"The Kannon statue got smashed too..."

"...So us old folks lost out in the end, eh..."

"Nah, Souichi—you can't go buckin' orders all solo-like..."

"Ain't nobody could win against that..."

"...The nursery plot stayed all tore up terrible-like..."

"...Nah, that..."

"The authorities dumped plenty fertilizer in, so..."

“That’s six years without fertilizer now…”
…speckled here and there with brown…
“…Oh…”
The apple branches got eaten by rabbits.
“The cherry ones weren’t touched.”
“Peach branches went same way…”
“…Gotta trap them rabbits proper…”
“Even so, if you’re wanting kinds they won’t chew—”
“For flowers, roses or azaleas maybe.”
“Fruit trees’d likely do best with plums…”
“…Cherry branches stayed untouched…”
“Since they’d filled up on apple and peach…”
“…There now…”
That must’ve been the apple tree’s ghost.

Standing firm at the very bottom of that valley

“The one covered in flowers…”

“…Haa…”

“…A wire rope?”

“So we’re quarrying under this cliff…”

“…Oh… It’s part of the Marugo Lead work…”

“…You really think this will sell that well…”

“…Haa…”

“They’re selling it saying it’s fire-resistant…”

“…Fire-resistant, y’know—this stone…”

“That’s… the reclaimed land…”

“…Haa…”

“We’ll be crossing the upstream bridge…”

1066 [Today at Last I]

1927, 5, 12,

Today at last I
how those shining blue horseflies
having wandered in from the wind
within the barriers of rope and glass
whether they would fly or leap about in my absence
I believe I have thoroughly observed.

1068 [If Ereki and Birds Splash-Fly]

1927, 5, 14,

If Ereki and birds splash-fly

Within the grove spanning nine units,

A single large withered cedar

Now takes a form that could even be seen as a proper lightning rod

……Today too, the heat still hasn't subsided.

Nymph, Nymbus, Nymphaea...
That water-blue thing encircling the cedar—
having borrowed flowers from ferns
to deck its crown full—
must be some mangy oak tree.

……Finally,

of the volcaniclastic terrain

Conduct an investigation pertaining to wheat...

Clouds trailed their wanton tails,

quietly crisscrossing the forest.

1072: Prefectural Engineer’s Statement Regarding Clouds

June 1, 1927,

Mythology or anthropomorphic explanations -

This official feels profound shame, yet -

Temporarily adopting the standpoint of ancient poets -

Declare unto the black wanton rainclouds:

This official, from the faintly glowing expansive ether atop this mountain pass -

And from the cold wind fragrant with wild roses that passes through here -

And from the valleys' fiercely blue-etched carvings -

To equally purge both mental impurities and physical toil together,

In today's field schedule,

the few moments this official has painstakingly obtained

are thus allocated with such preciousness—yet—

"In truth, O dark raincloud,
You instead impose upon this official—
Having brought extraordinary unease,
So to speak, nearly as chronicled in the Kojiki,
Compelling one to feel as if treading upon emptiness."

If we are to investigate this fundamental cause,

During those twenty days of May now past,

You lewd raincloud tribe—

Having covered the western river valleys without departing,
if through your disruption of solar patterns they fail to maintain proper growth conditions,
all rice seedlings have become excessively elongated
or developed red diseased spots.
Under such circumstances,
this season's rice cultivation across the prefecture
cannot be regarded without grave concern.
The act of looking skyward to make crows caw—
this occurred with excessive frequency daily.

However last night,
that seasoned Chief Meteorologist
resolutely maintained his clear weather forecast.
This morning saw a blue sky and crisp air;
he let cigar smoke drift from [the] train window.

Twenty ri of gorge, ten ri of plain

The journey bright, now past noon—

What treachery! What faithlessness!

This mountaintop's panoramic view with distant vistas

The panoramic view gnaws at one’s very being with rage.

Firstly, you extend eastward from here

Adorned in warbler-green,

stretch unbroken to cover distant terrain

Finally reaching the limits of your boundless visual field,

even encroaching upon the great ocean itself

Secondly, those stratocumulus clouds and—

Contravening the azure expanse

the act of you racing northward

Third: The dark atmospheric layer's sea cucumbers—

At the upper reaches of Mount Goyō

Every wanton and base light and form

their transformations and emergences
You show not the slightest restraint
Synthesizing these observations:
O mysteriously soft raincloud—
Even should you permit several beguiling sunbeams
Even should you send winds bearing the incense of impropriety
Those ash-gray wings and tentacles
With your great baritone's resonance
Your intention to cast across the entire sky
Already stands evident beyond concealment
Therefore in all sincerity this official—
From every public and private position
A glance brimming with total dissatisfaction
Finally bestows upon you for this moment—
Quickly now quickly

the rainclouds attempted to leave this mountaintop

1075 Raving

1927, 6, 13,

In the end, what did not act cowardly was

Black and white floating there
Remove the crown made of cumulus clouds

1076 Ravings

1927, 6, 13,

Indignation now swiftly transformed.

I rose unsupported and

stretched across the river valley's sky.

And yet,

because I was lighter than hydrogen,

gleamed endlessly blue.

What could not be born in the rain—

What torment this was!

1077 Securing Funds

1927, 6, 30,

At the end of the blue-glowing celestial arc
The town floats beautifully.
O poor pitiable town

He was thought to be wealthy.
Had not a penny to his name.
Had not a penny of income.
And was resented.
Resignation it was.

Thus what we call society—
Society does not permit intermediaries to exist.
Everything about everyone was wrong:
Slander and resentment;
Children of eighteen or nineteen greedier than adults;
Everything about everyone was wrong.

I'll play for today.

Everything—

forgetting it all—
I'll become a child within the sunlight
A wind sweetly ripened and tepid,

Something like the sound of a small motor
This tree where flowers bloomed [...]
Bees swarmed through every treetop
Through those gelatinous shadows

Moonlight-colored petals fall.
In the distance, the town still gleams,
gleaming and floating in the sky.

1079 Colleagues

1927, 7, 1,

When I was once with you all,

when we used to line up desks in this rectangular room,

On a bright and quiet afternoon like today,

......At the window swayed acacia branches......

With differing thoughts and differing appearances,

When someone came to visit,
we merely exchanged casual glances
and sometimes traded half-formed expressions for reasons unknown—
...summer clouds scattering and gleaming...

Today as I am tired and weak,
avoiding the desolate fields and everyone’s fierce eyes,
foolish beyond measure, foolish beyond measure,
yearning for yesterday’s carefree abode,
if I manage to return to this rectangular room,
truly your words and expressions—
I become ten times the strength that resides in you all.
……The wind blazes……
It strikes my chest.
……The wind too blazes,the grain plants too blaze……

1080 [Reeds Being Briskly Cut—]

1927, 7, 7,

Reeds being briskly cut—
The water hyacinth's purple flowers—
Raising reddened inflamed eyes,
The reaper gazes at the wind.

1082 [That rice field over there, you see—]

1927, 7, 10,

That rice field over there...
In that variety，nitrogen was far too abundant．
“You should decisively cut off irrigation now．”
“You don’t do the third weeding．”

……running intently along the ridge and arriving…

In the green rice fields, the child wiping sweat...

"Isn't there any phosphoric acid left?"

"Did you use it all?"

"In that case, if this weather

“If it continues for five days from now—
about those drooping leaves, you see—
the ones shaped like this—
you should pluck them off.”

……the child nodded hurriedly and wiped sweat……
When the child had come to the winter training session—
though it was said to be after a year of work—

Still bore a smile as radiant as apples,
Now burned by sun and sweat,
Worn down by many sleepless nights……

“And then, okay? By the end of this month—if those rice plants don’t grow beyond your chest—exactly, use the buttons on your shirt as a ruler—you see—trim off all the leaf tips. …Not just sweat… …the child was wiping tears too… You thought of that yourself.”

“I’ve thoroughly inspected that rice field too. The Rikuu 132 variety, you see—that went quite well. The fertilizer shows absolutely no unevenness,” he said, observing how robustly it was growing. “Even the ammonium sulfate—you must have spread that yourself. People will say all sorts of things, but that area over there is nothing to worry about at all. If it’s three koku two to per tan, you can consider it settled. You’ve got to keep at it. The real study from now on, you see—”

“It’s not like being taught by some business instructor during tennis out of obligation.
Like you—
Through blizzards and stolen moments from meager work,
Weeping as you
Carve this learning into your body—
Soon it would sprout vigorous buds,

There’s no telling how far they’ll reach.
That is the beginning of the new learning to come.

“Well then, farewell.”

……from the clouds and from the wind
an invisible force

to that child

Be transmitted……

1020: Master of the Field

Among fallen rice plants and miscanthus ears
Through water shining white

In this thunder and clouds,
Master,' when I came seeking you,
you sat properly on the veranda,
listening to sky and field's breath.

Daily at sunrise and sunset,
he cuts grass into small hills,
even in winter wearing handwoven hemp.

When seventy years had passed,
your back grew rounder than pine trunks,
your fingers stiffened numb,
your forehead—through rain and sun—
carved the schematics of all hardships,
your eyes hollowed beyond caverns.
All aspects of field and sky
held duplicate forms within you:
the directions of their changes
and effects upon those crops—
like wind-carried words—
were whispered in your throat.
And your countenance—
what brightness today held!
As we prayed for bountiful harvests

I had finished designing two thousand fertilization plans.

Now all those rice plants had put forth their ears

and were even blooming their flowers these days,

But after four consecutive days of intense rain

and this morning's thunderstorm,

they had collapsed here and there,

though if they saw tomorrow or even the day after -

if they even saw the sun - they would all rise up

and likely achieve the intended results.

Otherwise, the villages

would once again face a dark winter this year.

In the sound of this thunder and rain,

in the futility of speaking,

I could only stand in silence.

In the pine and poplar groves,
several trails of cloud tails streamed,
the water of tiered embankments
overflowed ash-gray.
And your countenance—
that unclouded brightness—
the summer-before-last’s drought sky
without even a trace of your upward gaze,

I was now filled with confidence

I would once again tour the villages.

As I was about to leave

For an instant upon your forehead,
uncertain clouds emerged
that brightened and cleared once again—
Trying to deduce what this meant,
I likely counted a hundred possibilities,
though having exhausted my thoughts ultimately could not know.
Master, if perhaps this matter—
having barely mastered superficial learning
and being as flighty as a bird—
pertains to me,
Master, exert your vision to its utmost
and your hearing to its limit:
Look straight into my eyes,
please listen to my breath.

The Master wore an old white linen suit.
The Master held a torn silk-lined Western umbrella.

Still I—by the protective mindfulness of all buddhas and bodhisattvas through that Chapter of the Lifespan from the Lotus Sutra you recited every morning—intended to guard it with my life.
Well then, Master—
What thunderous heavenly drums!
What luminous purification!
I kept silent
and resolved to offer you gratitude anew.

1021: The gentle wind blew through the entire valley.

1927, 8, 20,

The rice plants had finally risen.
True living beings.
Perfectly engineered machines.
The rice plants stood in unison.
The ears that had waited through rains
now flickered small white flowers,
over quiet amber sunlit spaces
where red dragonflies whirred past.
Ah—
From south and southwest again
the mild wind blew through the valley,
and when sweat-drenched shirts dried,
heated brows and eyelids cooled.
From all those labors' fruits—
July's rice had tillered strong,
promised autumn's plenitude—yet

Within this mid-August

Twelve crimson dawns and
counted six days of ninety percent humidity—
stems grew weak and spindly,
putting forth ears and flowers all the while,
finally succumbed to yesterday’s fierce rain,
toppling one after another.
Above, in the rain’s spray,
a cold, mournful fog
shrouded the fallen rice plants.

Ah, nature is far too unexpected.
And far too honest.
I’d thought not one in a hundred would survive.
That dreadful rain during flowering season—
it came with such ferocity,
all we’d poured our strength into—

They all came crashing down in a heap.

Yet in their stead,

those I thought not even one in ten would rise

due to slight differences in seedling cultivation methods and

due to the method of phosphoric acid application

today have all risen in unison.

From the horizon buried in forests

From the azure-gleaming extinct volcano range,
the wind swept across the expanse of rice fields,
and glistened the chestnut leaves—
now vibrant transpiration
and the translocation of transparent sap.

Ah, we stood in the wilderness,
within rice fields that rustled so vigorously they could be mistaken for reeds,
like the simple gods of old—
no matter how much I toil and toil, it's never enough.

1088 [Stop Working]

1927, 8, 20,

Stop working.

Throw the rake.
This fortnight’s cloudy skies and

Because of this morning's severe thunderstorm
I designed the fertilizer
The rice plants for which everyone was responsible
They collapsed one after another.
The rice plants collapsed one after another.
The base moments of labor
It’s not that such base moments exist solely in factories.
Especially working frantically
Trying to distract from anxiety—
It's base.
……But ah, once more anew
In the west, black figures of death surged upward.
In spring, that was—
had even been called love itself—
Hadn’t it been considered…

Come on, I’ll head back once

I called the meteorological observatory,
prepared to get thoroughly drenched,
tied my head tightly and went out
to the many pale, rigid faces,
confronting each one individually:
"Go encourage them as if set ablaze!
Whatever means I employ,
I had said I would compensate, but..."

1089 [That two o'clock is this dark]

1927, 8, 20,

That two o'clock is this dark—

Is the clock too full of rain?

After leaving the main highway,
the path wound through violently fallen rice plants
and shadows of gloomy hinoki cypress groves,
winding and winding until I came this far,
yet considering the distance, I hadn't walked all that much.

And just where is this destination I'm heading towards—

Northern fierce rainclouds clung to the ground,
emerging from the soil of this field here
and dazzled by the field's light and wind and soil.
The aged and sightless Great Master,
half buried in moss,
quietly listened to this rain there.
Again lightning over the rice fields
licked the forest and passed by.
Before the thunder even began to roar,
here and there
the water wheel rolled wildly like madness.
Like the hindquarters of a Hackney horse
a single blue willow stood.

1090 [Whatever I Do, It’s Never Enough]

1927, 8, 20,

Whatever I do, it’s never enough

One of those ordinary companions

I read magazines and raised rabbits.
I built all the nest boxes myself.

If I line up nearly twenty under the wooden shed's eaves,

Those eyes were all teary and red

If they eat sasage from this hand,

they even chirp like warblers

And even that isn't enough

Whatever I do, it's never enough

One of those [five-character space] companions

Looking through catalogs and marking them,
ordering gladioluses by mail,
at Meuga Field and before the camellias,
when I planted them with name tags,
large flowers bloomed glaringly,
the elders marveled at their splendor,
every passerby praised them too,
and even that wasn't enough,
whatever I do, it's never enough.

One of those [five-character space] companions

I bought mushroom spores

I tidied up the shed completely,
made compost from wheat straw,
hung a thermometer as well.
When I poured water every day,
soon the white champignons
emerged one after another.
And even that wasn't enough.
Whatever I do, it's never enough.
One of those [     ] companions.

I wore vulcanized rubber long boots too

I bought and wore an olive-colored shrunken shirt too.
Cheeks bright too; hair curled and beautiful.
But in return,
Whatever I do, it's never enough.
Whatever I do, it's never enough.
One of those [five-character space] companions.
One of those [five-character space] companions.

Plateau

1928, 4, 12,

During when sun was white,
Some were coated with red ocher; others had sprouted grass,
I crossed each rice field one by one,
From twisted levee toward water channel,

Circling around the alluvial depression,

My voice grew hoarse; my eyes grew dim.

If I climbed up this plateau now
the ultramarine mountain range lay far off
the pine treetops swayed in the sunset
ah drainage and iron gel
topography sunlight acidity
site factors grew pallid
in the midst of fatigue they dissolved into chaos
quietly they came behind me

Today's two guides
of this land's ancient gods
took the forms of two pillars.
Today in sunlight they briefly became lofty gods;
tomorrow they turned into blue goats;
at times they warped into twisted asuras.
And yet now,
the pine trees resonated in the wind—
when their needles swayed in the sun
at that crossroads where paths diverge—
from my heart's depths I worshiped this being.

What can possibly hinder this?

At the bus stop, I partake of Switon.

July 20, 1928,

Having gone out of your way to come all the way here,

You went through the trouble of bringing this,

Though it's Switon with scallops,

It seems I'm running quite a fever,

This glass bus stop too,

Somehow felt like being inside a cloud.

So after all, it was as if I'd been eating a cloud or something.

The people of the rice fields,

Before preparing seedbeds and after transplanting rice,

during work that strains their bodies,

the kinds of medicinal things they take

Amidst weeding and mulberry work,

Having been mindful for days beforehand,

your mother had prepared—
a colloidal haze shaped like clouds.
Holding it in both hands,
I was simply already blue-dark,
trembling so ephemerally.
You were sitting next to me
while I was like this,

You are intently gazing up at the train timetable,
Behind that cooperative's warehouse
The chestnut trees and poplars along the riverbank

Because the clouds glared so intensely,
they appeared almost black,
now once more holding a single rice plant,
the person who came to that entrance—
I was certain we’d met before near Kanaya as well—
might this be your cousin, I wondered,
their face and hands simply dark,
the one across was laughing too,
and though I was certainly laughing,
somehow it didn’t feel like my own.

Ah my friend,
Like the clouds in the sky cannot be severed,
your goodwill too cannot be severed

I opened my eyes clearly.
Looking at that rice plant, I said clearly,
After this, during the time until the train arrived,
I would quietly collapse here.
Our
As so many seniors had all done,
I would quietly collapse here and wait.

Ear Formation Period

1928, 7, 24,

In the honey-colored sunset,

Everyone thirsting

An island of miscanthus grass within the rice fields,

They drifted to Kannon Hall.

The day's journey
Within the deep blue of rice plants

The limit of the gaze,

At the base of those water-colored leaf sheaths,

A smoke-like one-millimeter plume,

The pale primordial form of rice ears

was now stealthily taking shape.

The mental strain of these past several months

disappeared into the sprawling eastern mountains.

In the blue-turbid sunset,

squatting with their hemp shirts open at the chest,

They took off their hats and sat on small stones,
their faces covered in cuts from the rice plants,
ate fragrant sour apricots,
their words came in fragments,
like the native tongue of some unknown land.
When they vacantly shifted their gaze,
quivering like blue gelatin,
rather smoldering like liquid,
clusters of miscanthus grass surrounded this hall.