The Pilgrim
In Peace Memorial Park I stare at the A-bomb dome, sit on a bench in the dark while pigeons roost in the ruins,
while a girl with ivory hands plucks a koto’s strings; somewhere beyond my hearing— crystal, unbreakable things.
In Peace Memorial Park I stare at the A-bomb dome, sit on a bench in the dark while pigeons roost in the ruins,
while a girl with ivory hands plucks a koto’s strings; somewhere beyond my hearing— crystal, unbreakable things.