Of a mother in Chuzenji,

Where Nantai-zan looks down into the lake;

Where the white-thronged pilgrims

Climb to altars in the clouds

And behold the holy eastern dawn awake.

It was there I wandered

Till a priest of the Christians

With the crucifix he wore compelled my gaze.

In grief I had grown,

So upon its grief I pondered.

Namu Amida Butsu, keep my days!

It was wrong, he told me,

To pray Jiso for my children,

And Binzuru for healing of my ills.

And our gods so many

Were conceived, he said, in sin,

From Lord Shaka to the least upon the hills.

[Pg 8]

In despair I listened

For my heart beat hopeless,

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