Night Sun
三島　和希
Kazuki Mishima

The lotus seat that holds my soul
and shelters it from sight
draws back its curtains, after dark,
in vain, to let in light.

As in this night I sun my face,
a tremor rocks the bones
and summons sleep to give each breath
the heaviest of tones.

The final thought before I go
to lands of shifting ground:
a mind to mind has never made
a whisper of a sound.