Page:The Spirit of Japanese Poetry (Noguchi).djvu/73

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See the tremor of the cup of the flower, as if it fears to exist; Oh, bareness of beauty that has soared out of life; Is it a real morning-glory? Is it not only imagination or pain itself? I hear in its tremor a certain human speech, but voiceless. What a mystery, what mournfulness, what tragic thrill! I am a priest for whom stones and grasses prepare a nightly bed, A companion of water, trees, stars, and night; Here will I sleep and solve the mystery with the power of prayer. Oh, flower, whatever name thou bearest, take me this night as thy guest."

How my heart burns in madness and pain: Oh, misery to be a prey to fire and unrest! I am a wandering spirit of discontent from Hades, After the Life that ascends, the Life of whiteness and the sun; Oh, my hatred of dissolution and death!"

Who art thou, lady? Thou seemest to be a soul dead, but not dead, Cursor of Nirvana, straying soul of unrest."

Father, I am the spirit of the Morning-Glory."