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F U K U N A G A T A K E H I K O . . . Like an ashen cofÞn ßoating in the water. Kitahara Hakushu, Omoide I could make out the river only by its gleamy surface, as the thin moon rest- ing between the groves darkened the treetops and branches into a shadow- graph. I was looking out in the direction of the river, struck by its continu- ous sound. It was late, the town was asleep, and all I could hear was the sound of the river. Although there was a moon, from where I stood I could not see its reßection on the riverÕs surface. I clicked my tongue and leaned on the handrail of the veranda, my thoughts adrift. Every traveler knows the experience of reaching a strange land and not being able to fall asleep on the Þrst night. For me, it was the sound of the river that kept me awake.D i r e c t l y opposite the garden lay the river, and although I had hardly noticed its gen- tle sound when I arrived in the afternoon, it seemed extraordinarily loud when I lay down to
Manoa – University of Hawai'I Press
Published: Oct 1, 2001
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