Sunday, November 21, 2010
The ravine filled with fumes of wild incense
The getting burnt sense seems to be a smell of the far-off memory.
The absentminded shadow of a farmer may be a symbol of this season.
I sometimes lose my eyesight of it.
The cold air wraps up the slope.
The smoke drifts aimlessly.
It seems to be far... or near ...
To the upper rice field. To the sky. . .
And to the next season. . .
The memories are wandering all the time.
木枯に 岩吹きとがる 杉間かな
松尾 芭蕉 (1644 – 1694)
A cold wintry wind ... Rock sharp keenly soars From interval of cedars
Matsuo Bashō (1644 – 1694)
Hare is Oniki District, Hasami-chō, Nagasaki Prefecture.