90. Untitled (October 11, 1910)


無題(明治四十三年十月十一日)

遺却新詩無處尋

嗒然隔牖對遙林

斜陽滿徑照僧遠

黃葉一村藏寺深

懸偈壁間焚佛意

見雲天上抱琴心

人間至樂江湖老

犬吠鷄鳴共好音

Untitled (October 11, 1910)

I left behind some new poems, nowhere to look;

I blankly gaze out the window toward the trees far away.

The setting sun fills the path and illumines a monk in the distance,

Yellow leaves, a whole village conceal a temple in their depths.

I hang a gatha on the wall, meaning to burn the Buddha;[1]

Seeing clouds in the heaven, I feel as if carrying a zither.

The greatest joy in the world, to grow old amid rivers and lakes;

A dog barking and a cock crowing are both good sounds.[2]


[1]  “burning the Buddha”: A zenji visiting a temple felt cold, so he burned a stature of the Buddha to get warm.  When criticized, he said it he did it in order to collect the Buddha’s bones (cremated remains)—a pious act.  Perhaps Sōseki is saying that, as a pious act, he hung a gatha (Buddhist hymn) on the wall.

[2] “a dog barking and a cock crowing”: Lao Tzu, describing his utopia, said that the only sounds people would hear would be a dog barking and a cock crowing in the next village.


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