お盆の墓参り。親類縁者お揃いで山寺へ。
夏の夕暮れ行き来する浴衣姿の家族連れ。
坂のぼり、山門くぐり、さらに坂のぼる。
盆花で飾られし先祖代々の苔むす墓の群。
ロウソクに火を灯し、台の上に。線香も。
数珠を手に黙祷。手持ち提灯に火を移す。
坂くだり、山門くぐり、さらに坂くだる。
つまづいて、家の前で提灯の火が消える。
ひとり墓前まで戻り、迎え火を運ぶ沙汰。
西日は沈み、人影まばらな夜道となりぬ。
幾百もの灯明りに浮かぶ山のシルエット。
蛍とび交うも、すれ違いし人の影はなし。
灯明りに照らされ、卒塔婆の影ゆれ踊る。
提灯のロウソクに火を移し、立ち上がる。
不意の突風。提灯ゆれるも、迎え火残る。
見渡せば、人気ない山の墓場は真っ暗闇。
誰ぞ吹いたか突風で灯明りすべて寂滅す。
残るは、ゆれる迎え火、かそけき蛍の光。
Visiting a Grave
Obon grave visit.
I went to the mountain temple with my relatives.
Families in yukata come and go at dusk in summer.
Climbing up the slope, passing through the mountain gate,
and climbing up the slope.
A group of tombs covered
with ancestral moss decorated with Obon flowers.
Light a candle and place it on the table.
Incense too.
A silent prayer with a rosary in hand.
Light the hand-held lantern.
Downhill, under the mountain gate, and downhill.
I stumble and the lantern goes out in front of my house.
I will return to the grave alone
and carry the fire to welcome.
The evening sun has set,
and the streets become sparsely lit at night.
Mountain silhouettes floating in hundreds of lights.
Fireflies flitted about, but there was
no shadow of the people who passed each other.
Illuminated by the light of the lanterns,
the shadow of the stupa sways and dances.
Light the candle on the lantern and stand up.
Unexpected gust of wind.
The lanterns sway, but the welcoming fire remains.
If I look around,
the deserted mountain graveyard is pitch black.
Whoever blew, a gust of wind wiped out all the lights.
What remains is the swaying welcoming fire,
the light of the glowing firefly.
