In the Evening            

In this empty field,
from where the farmers and the farm animals
have returned home, only the sounds of bullfrogs flourish.

The blue sky lowers,
on the distant hill, the sloping path darkens;
to towering trees, birds turn in for the night.

Over the ever-widening field,
standing as if I am nailed here, with head bent down,
I stare into gleaming water–then, a deep sigh: why?

Forgetting that the night has already deepened,
the body lightens, in thoughts as high as the mind lifts–
Suddenly, into a not-so-distant autumn grove, a beam leaps from a star.