Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Shinjiro Kurahara

The Absent Man

On a hill at the base of a mountain
stood an old temple dedicated to Kannon.
I paid a visit to a monk living there.
I had been there several times
meaning to drink newly picked tea with him.
As always he was absent today, too.
 
The three side doors of the temple were open.
Over the hearth, without fire,
a dusty pot was hanging.
A single
blue-and-white teacup . . .
A blue blew in
and alighted on its rim.
 
High over the open temple,
the peak of a thunderhead, rare and radiant . . .

不在の人

不在の人

山すその丘に
古い観音堂がたっている
そこに住む僧を訪ねた
新茶をいっしょに飲もうと
何度か来たのだが
やっぱり 今日も不在だ
 
堂は三方あけっぱなし
火のない炉にほこりだらけの鍋がかかっている
ぽつんと一つ
染付の湯呑があった
風とともにシジミ蝶が飛んできて
湯呑のふちに来てとまった
 
堂のむこうに
めずらしく積乱雲の峰がまぶしい
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The Absent Man

On a hill at the base of a mountain
stood an old temple dedicated to Kannon.
I paid a visit to a monk living there.
I had been there several times
meaning to drink newly picked tea with him.
As always he was absent today, too.
 
The three side doors of the temple were open.
Over the hearth, without fire,
a dusty pot was hanging.
A single
blue-and-white teacup . . .
A blue blew in
and alighted on its rim.
 
High over the open temple,
the peak of a thunderhead, rare and radiant . . .

The Absent Man

On a hill at the base of a mountain
stood an old temple dedicated to Kannon.
I paid a visit to a monk living there.
I had been there several times
meaning to drink newly picked tea with him.
As always he was absent today, too.
 
The three side doors of the temple were open.
Over the hearth, without fire,
a dusty pot was hanging.
A single
blue-and-white teacup . . .
A blue blew in
and alighted on its rim.
 
High over the open temple,
the peak of a thunderhead, rare and radiant . . .
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