Poetry by James Wren


Translation of Takahashi Mutsuo


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Translated by James Wren

The Quiet

Melting into the night
sits the self,
the deserted quiet of these surroundings
the world, pitch black.
And who knows why. . . .

Hearing the wind blow through the tree tops
the hissing rustle as it passes,
not having seen the heavens for several months
even the stars hidden among the clouds. . . .
a feeling of calm descends upon the heart.

There seems to be truth in the words of old men:
Long, long ago such quiet became a companion on overcast nights.