The Time Around Sunset            

The time around sunset
is aimless, unending.
In the pale orange-water-spilled sky
a white pigeon circles in the wind, branches weep.

The time around sunset
is anxious, unrelenting.
“Blessed is the one who is able to lighten one’s mind.”
Never mind. A tired wayfarer finds a place to rest.

Crows are chased,
bell-sounds scatter aslant,
a calf calls “Um–Mae–,“
a dog barks, looking at the sky.

The time around sunset
is mirthless, unsparing.
Shall I go down to the river’s edge to hide
under the shade of a big tree and cry out this sadness?

The time around sunset
is the most adored.
Oh! Come and wrap this black kasaya
on your shoulder and chant this sutra with me!

The time around sunset
is the most affectionate.
Like sand dunes, water-dunes, standing silently,
let us behold the moon rising, spreading her skirt up high.