静岡市の文化財

Over the path for descent of the shenxian* living in the heavenly realms, the sun has set and darkness fallen, the wind is whipping and waves are crashing on the open sea. As if awaking, by way of a connection to Buddhism, to the relation of cause and effect, composing a poem can only be accomplished with experiences of the past. As I sit gazing out at lantern light flickering upon the spray of the waterfall, I am felled by the sandman. Though travelers cannot stay in this place for long, oh, how my heart is moved by the brilliant moonlight. And yet, there is nothing I can do to remain.

We passed this temple at dawn, but have not yet had the time to look around. How I envy the fourth mission for their ability to compose poems. I shall compose another poem at left.

While almost dawn, the sky is still a faint black, and visitors to the temple have not yet climbed up its staircase. A few priests stand outside Seikenji’s gate with their arms crossed. In the haze of my dreaming, I can hear the clear sound of stone scraping upon stone, and can see stars flickering toward the edge of the grove. This place is near mountains where snow falls; time passes quickly, and the waves of Suruga Bay greet the dawn. I longed to visit Seikenji on the return trip from Edo, wishing to feel the truth. To first calm my emotions, I opt not to climb the tower for now, but rather to stay on the ground.

*Shenxian: A Taoist immortal.