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 walks.

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.

我在炙热的尘土的大路上消磨了一天。

现在，在凉爽的夜晚，我敲着一个客栈的门。这客栈已经荒废坍塌了。

一棵忧愁的菩提树，从张开裂缝的墙里伸展出饥饿的爪根。

从前曾有过路人到这里来洗乏倦的脚。

他们在初升月亮的微光下在院里摊开席子，坐着谈论异地的风光。

早晨他们恢复了精神，鸟声使他们愉悦，友爱的花儿在路旁向他们点头。

但是当我来时没有灯在等我。

只有许多残留的灯烟熏的黑色污迹，像盲人的眼睛，从墙上瞪视着我。

萤火虫从干涸的池边的灌木中掠过，竹枝的影子在荒芜的小径上摇曳着。

我在一天之末做了没有主人的客人。

我面前是漫漫的长夜，我疲乏了。