How many moons and suns have set and risen on you before you appeared to my eyes this afternoon? What joy and pain do you hold from all those who have come before me? Perhaps a monk who passed through in serene meditation. Perhaps a gleeful bandit who hid in your shadows. Perhaps a fishmonger plying his basketed wares. Perhaps a tearful mother in search of her boy. Perhaps a samurai who retreated to lick his wounds. Perhaps a lover rushing to his love at dusk. I stand on your threshold and wonder if a step into your
చాలా బాగుంది , ఆ ప్రదేశాల్లో నీవు సంచరించినప్పుడు నీ కళ్ళలో కదలాడిన ఆశ్చర్యం, అబ్బురం, తృప్తి నీ కవితలో దాగి వున్నాయి .