WebPoems

I love these little bridges, like those in Kyoto

Across the ditches and canals, too narrow

For two to pass, at least with boxes hanging

From your shoulder bars. The commemorative stone

Has been eaten away by weather or war,

And the chimes hanging from the ropes look

As if they've lost a few pieces. Time cannot be

Contained, but Hokusai has slowed its rhythm.

How many hours this intersection must have been empty,

While he waited for these characters to appear! Each holds

Treasures wrapped in cloth and plunked in a basket,

Rolled up in an umbrella, or pushed into a seine bag (fish

For sushi). Only the mountain seems unrestrained,

Loosing its snow and mist in wide bands,

Forming a bright panorama for this moment.

Except that Hokusai has caught its aura

In this rectangle, magically reducing the view

To a single theme, the infinite Mount Fuji.