Green flute
IIAGIWARA SAKUTARO
For Tow Ilan Y fieh : Translated Iron, the Japanese by Graeme Wilson Over the evening field The elephants, long-eared, Troop slowly into night.
The yellow evening moon Limps up from afternoon To stand at last revealed Clear yellow but yet bleared By waverings, the slight Wind-winnowings of the light.
Girl in this evening scene, Are you not saddened by Its seep of loneliness?
Here is a little flute Whose music is pure green.
Blow on it gently, sigh Along its hollows. See, Its quavered cadences, Its shaky melody, Call down from that clear sky A cold, an absolute Quintessence of distress.
From some far sea of yearning A ghostliness appears. With slow appalling pad It lurks towards us, turning More nasty as it nears, Seeming at last to be A cat without a head That staggers in the dead Black shadows of this sad Unseemly cemetery.
Girl, I could easily In such a place concerning Grief and the end of day, Grief and the night returning, To death's menagerie Stagger away.
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