Where
do you hurry with
your basket this late evening when the marketing is over?
They
all have come home with their burdens; the moon peeps from above the
village trees.
The
echoes of the voices calling for the ferry run across the dark water to
the distant swamp where wild ducks sleep.
Where
do you hurry with your basket when the marketing is over?
Sleep
has laid her finger upon the eyes of the earth.
The
nests of the crows have become silent, and the murmurs of the bamboo
leaves are silent.
The
laborers home from their fields spread their mats in the courtyards.
Where
do you hurry with your basket when the marketing is over?