Blind Moon

by Harry Lang

Another new moon
shines on the book I cannot find,
hears like blind beggars the red surf,
rain on careful stones,
bamboo sweeping clouds,
the last breath of men too foolish
to know they want to live.
Blind moon,
we will not meet at Yasukuni Shrine.
Your cherry blossoms rain in storms.
Floods cover Kudanzaka.
Souls precious to God leap fiercely into godhood,
drown in the lake of fire.
How beautiful is the Rising Sun!
How treacherous the cherry blossom heart.