其七

鋸山如鋸碧崔嵬
上有伽藍倚曲隈
山僧日高猶未起
落葉不掃白雲堆
吾是北來帝京客
登臨此日懷往昔
咨嗟一千五百年
十二僧院空無迹
只有古佛坐磅磄
雨蝕苔蒸閲桑滄
似嗤浮世榮枯事
冷眼下瞰太平洋

No. 7

Nokogiri Mountain is like a saw, with sheer heights of greenery,
On top stands a temple nestled in a nook.
The mountain monks at high sun, still have not risen,
Fallen leaves remain unswept, white clouds pile high.
I am a traveler from the capital, come here from the north,
I look down from the ascent today and reminisce on times long past.
Alas! One thousand five hundred years,
The twelve cloisters are gone without a trace.
Only old buddha statues sit among the crags,
Rain-weathered moss-covered, they watch aeons pass.
And seem to laugh at the floating world, with its good times and bad,
Their cold eyes gaze downward on the great Pacific Ocean.