Prayer
The little gate opens from the dragon garden
Into the smoky darkness of the temple
Lit by the red wax tapers' swaying flames.
The air is heavy with the incense
Burned before the painted images of the gods.
In the bronze brazier I too shall burn my offering—
Silver paper for the spirits of the falling peach blossoms.
Into the smoky darkness of the temple
Lit by the red wax tapers' swaying flames.
The air is heavy with the incense
Burned before the painted images of the gods.
In the bronze brazier I too shall burn my offering—
Silver paper for the spirits of the falling peach blossoms.
