water of sake

even the soberness of water no longer offers me intoxication.

when sky rains down,

my mouth stays closed.

in my hermitage and anchor of the world,

I have carved a bowl out of the stone, I am a cave-dweller.

the river of universe flows through it vertically...they are drops

of water dripping from the ceiling of cave.

the sound of pitter-patter did not stop.

but I am left with only moist dregs.

Yesterday I forgot to finish it, the river.

And today the sake-of-water in my badly carven cup is not enough.

even if I extend my hand into the stone-vessel,

it only becomes wet.

no fragrance sprouting forth.

the sound of pitter-patter did not stop.

my mouth stays closed.

the sky rains down soberness.

the bowl did nothing to impede the flow.

I am left with only moist dregs.