You will rest under the vines of
the high stone walls of the castle that
no one deemed necessary to erect a concrete
facsimile of what was destroyed by the conflagrations of war
perhaps reflecting on the fitting words of Norinaga to the sound of cicadas
Having had your fill of a view of streets and houses laid out below
a cobweb of power lines cast over houses much the same
since samurai gathered taxes door to door with swords hung
unused by their sides, topknotted bureaucrats,
in the mode of salarimen today, you will
make your way down to the city
There the tender beef calmed with beer and soy will
sit on a plate before you and you’ll
hear Hibari Misora sing and
you’ll close your eyes
and sigh
