Foto: by Fukuda
Mid-summer Night
We have learned this skill
of escaping
from a world we’ll never
escape.
The air is lukewarm
inside Koji Osakaya--
a miniature hurly-burly.
We dream of going away again.
Yes, it’s such a peaceful night.
Mind is drifting further and further.
A shrimp is swimming among onions:
a poem should be written
for nothing but a pot of Udon.
But first you have to learn
to eat shamelessly,
like the well-to-do
with the eyes of dead fish,
watching those dancing waitresses
& the mustached waiter almost slapped himself
for dropping a tea bowl;
a young mother with her daughter
are seated next to us
as I read the line of Roethke:
I suffered for birds, for young rabbits caught in the mower,
My grief was not excessive.
影云 发表评论于
Not an escape like running away, but at those moments, my mind cannot focus, always wandering somewhere else; whatever I see and hear is blurry
