by Sakutaro Hagiwara

Sakutaro Hagiwara

From the pains of chronic ailment,
The face was riddled with cobwebs.
Below the waist; there was nothing save shadow.
Above the waist, there grew thickets.
His knuckles were gangrenous.
The whole face of his body was totally wrecked.
And again the moon came up.
The wan, twilight moon hung high,
And in the illumination which was like a pale bonbori-lantern,
The white misshapen dog yelps.
Come daybreak,
It's him barking up the ghastly alley, you know.

Last updated January 14, 2019