Blind Autumn · Dazaiosamu
A Friend's Funeral
This was never meant to be so clear an autumn dayNever meant to be like thisHis daughter called, and so I was compelled to attend his funeral—to receive the passing of a beloved friendI shed some parched thoughts, coughing on impulse as all old people doI went toward his meadowtoward his forestI thought It had been too many years; between us had risen things large and smalltoo many tracks, supermarkets, and darkened streets that frightened usI no longer knew you, I knewyet I had to remember you, my friendFearless, mottled, we were once as keen as any staggered sentencethough now we only drift down like spring blossoms His relatives' faces were lividimmaculately dressed, they stood in silenceHe did not like silence, I thoughtbut there was nothing I could doOutside the sun burned so utterlyI looked at the vessel holding youonly a radiant white patch rested upon your face ThenI heard you call me from an afternoon just as bright many years agoand I, laughingalmost caught hold of your hand