Frantic Summer · Dazaiosamu
Night at Summer's End
The shops are closedthe lights are still ona homeless man shuffles overpreparing to go to bed with the whole cityA child slips out of bed, rises on tiptoe and leans against the balcony windowblowing the whistle of the mountainsits long note lets some who are already dreaming finally fall asleep—returning to the unstained homeland of childhoodthat long note draws out some lonely frog calls, the curious gaze of catsLuckily, the people of the whole city finally remember their deadtheir spirits wander through this night at summer's endairing beneath the moon the clothes and bedding their children had no time to put outand taking tea along the way And I am a little grateful to have a home that easily catches a slight chill in the moonlightThe night goes outI no longer worry about young moths striking the glass, or the scale-dust from their wings scattering like stardust into the darkI only roll up my sleeves.Let our bodies ripple with cool, dense waveswake shallowly firstthen fall asleep again