In the Three Coaches
That travel on the Road of Law
I drove out of the Burning House . . .
Is there no way to banish the broken coach
That stands at Yugao's door?
This world
Is like the wheels of the little ox-cart;
Round and round they go. . . till vengeance comes.
The Wheel of Life turns like the wheel of a coach;
There is no escape from the Six Paths and Four Births.
We are brittle as the leaves of the basho;
As fleeting as foam upon the sea.
Yesterday's flower, to-day's dream.
From such a dream were it not wiser to wake?
And when to this is added another's scorn
How can the heart have rest?
So when I heard the twanging of your bow
For a little while, I thought, I will take my pleasure;
And as an angry ghost appeared.
Oh! I am ashamed!
Fiquei especialmente fascinado pelas linhas This world/Is like the wheels of the little ox-cart;/Round and round they go. . . till vengeance comes. A imutabilidade do tempo, num poema japonês de 1400. Plus ça change, tudo fica no mesmo...
Aoi No Uye
