My friends, come, let us go now
together to the fields
let us sing,
blow the water buffalo horn.
Look, already the fruits are ripe
in the fields the rice paddy ears are dropping
between the sounds of the wind blowing,
the voice of the wild dove,
friends, blow your horn.
Good bye now,
people from Java
pass beyond the potato fields
into their gardens.
Over that hill
the temple bell stops ringing
the candle light grows dim and dies sipping
figs juice
let us sing a hearty song
blow the horns
tied to your neck.
My friends,
listen to the bells
going down the fields
through the village
with grape vines ripening.
Good bye now
the padre in black dress
has already finished
his early morning duties
now invisible
as he disappears quietly
behind the palm tree leaves.
Until that time
let us sip fig juice
and sing a warm song.
Come now
together let us
blow the horn my friends
awaken and come to the fields
to sing a warm song.
let us blow our
water buffalo horns.
(Kitahara Hakushu)
More Poetry from Kitahara Hakushu:
Kitahara Hakushu Poems based on Topics: People, Listening, Friendship, WaterReaders Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Friendship Poems, Water Poems, People Poems, Listening PoemsBased on Keywords: java