64

I SPENT my day on the scorching hot dust of the road.

Now, in the cool of the evening, I knock at the door of the inn. It is deserted and in ruins.

A grim ashath tree spreads its hungry clutching roots through the gaping fissures of the walls.

Days have been when wayfarers came here to wash their weary feet.

They spread their mats in the courtyard in the dim light of the early moon, and sat and talked of strange lands.

They woke refreshed in the morning when birds made them glad, and friendly flowers nodded their heads at them from the wayside.

But no lighted lamp awaited me when I came here.

The black smudges of smoke left by many a forgotten evening lamp stare, like blind eyes, from the wall.

Fireflies flit in the bush near the dried-up pond, and bamboo branches fling their shadows on the grass-grown path.

I am the guest of no one at the end of my day.

The long night is before me, and I am tired.

64

我在大路灼热的尘土上消磨了一天。

现在，在晚凉中我敲着一座小庙的门。这庙已经荒废倒塌了。

一棵愁苦的菩提树，从破墙的裂缝里伸展出饥饿的爪根。

从前曾有过路人到这里来洗疲乏的脚。

他们在新月的微光中在院里摊开席子，坐着谈论异地的风光。

早起他们精神恢复了，鸟声使他们欢悦，

友爱的花儿在道边向他们点首。

但是当我来的时候没有灯在等待我。

只有残留的灯烟熏污的黑迹，像盲人的眼睛，从墙上瞪视着我。

萤虫在涸池边的草里闪烁，竹影在荒芜的小径上摇曳。

我在一天之末做了没有主人的客人。

在我面前的是漫漫的长夜，我疲倦了。