as I open the window,
comes in the breeze blown over the lake,
the fragrance of the snow flower
from the Hira Hilltops that dip
slowly into the lake,
blue summer, pink Sakura and sweet yellow custard,
breath taking beauty, lives beyond thoughts, lives…
the paddy field half laden with breast milk,
having its chin on the edge of the lake_
does it know the heavy rain would tumble down soon?
pensive tunes of the playing harp
gets mingled in the scenery like a blurred water colour painting.
pretends a rice swarming caterpillar
in the unseasonal rain
like a saint who practices the abstemious habits,
living on vegs.
says he, “I will take care of this Hira range,
and this Biwa Lake.”
then the blood of the golden paddy
the rice swarming caterpillar picks up
the trombone sprayer of insecticide
to safeguard the nation, to protect the paddy fields.
in comes the invading pungent smell
before the rain drops splash through the window.
is it a revolution? Then the caterpillar
must be an outstanding soldier.
profusion of insecticide spraying all over the paddy fields.
new breed of caterpillars swell up, and invade
in large troops, flinging themselves
into the revolution, first the paddy fields,
then the Biwa Lake, then the old peasant maid,
then all the villagers.
the scenery now blown all in scatters.
and woe to the Guardian Spirit of the paddy fields,
disguised as the Cherry Blossoms!
the caterpillars_ their spraying whistling like a nurse,
like the fellow abettors of Satan
marching to conquer the world.
O caterpillars from the other side of the Hira!
you crush the thinking brains,
defeat the yearning!
the storms, the tides, the outlet pipes
of the Nuclear Power Plant,
the world-destructive germs, the Satans,
wish the burning flames inside you
and enjoy the Shining Light of Heart.