It must really be autumn.
I am watching films about Japan.
I wish I could add wings to the roof of my house
And fly there,
Over the mountains of China,
The long narrow land of Korea,
And fly there,
Over the mountains of China,
The long narrow land of Korea,
The multi textured sea.
When my house lands softly near Kyoto
I shall watch the red leaves fall
And listen to the sad voices of strangers
Counting the days to December.
Perhaps I shall then pluck feathers from the wings
And sacrifice them to the Shinto gods,
And thank them for gifting me an easy journey
To this land of vibrant colours,
So different from the pastel shades el England.
For some reason Japan is the place I love the most
Although I have only been there once or twice
And can hardly speak the language.
It could be something to do with the brightness of the sun,
And the winding climb through woods to a hilltop temple
Where prayers are offered in silence,
And incense breathes the breath of sacred Kami,
Through the wooden halls.
But I think its more to do with the serendipity
Of finding myself in a landscape of many colours
That in England are only seen on video links,
Or the Hiroshige prints in the British Museum.
Yes, it really must be autumn.
This morning I noticed a difference in the daylight,
A moist paleness I associate with October,
And the early coming on of London street lamps.
The weather must be similar in Japan,
Except the sunlight could never be so mellow,
Even in midwinter, snow weighing down the rooftops,
Travellers trudging slowly towards Edo.
When my house lands softly near Kyoto
I shall watch the red leaves fall
And listen to the sad voices of strangers
Counting the days to December.
Perhaps I shall then pluck feathers from the wings
And sacrifice them to the Shinto gods,
And thank them for gifting me an easy journey
To this land of vibrant colours,
So different from the pastel shades el England.
For some reason Japan is the place I love the most
Although I have only been there once or twice
And can hardly speak the language.
It could be something to do with the brightness of the sun,
And the winding climb through woods to a hilltop temple
Where prayers are offered in silence,
And incense breathes the breath of sacred Kami,
Through the wooden halls.
But I think its more to do with the serendipity
Of finding myself in a landscape of many colours
That in England are only seen on video links,
Or the Hiroshige prints in the British Museum.
Yes, it really must be autumn.
This morning I noticed a difference in the daylight,
A moist paleness I associate with October,
And the early coming on of London street lamps.
The weather must be similar in Japan,
Except the sunlight could never be so mellow,
Even in midwinter, snow weighing down the rooftops,
Travellers trudging slowly towards Edo.
The London of my youth was grey and insular.
In Japan I learned to see things as they are.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 26th. - 28th. 2018. - Rewritten February 2nd. 2021.
When I was a teenage singer I visited Japan more than once. The country and its culture made a massive positive impact upon me. To this day I love Japanese poetry, ancient and modern, and have been deeply influenced by both Zen and Pure Land Buddhism.
In Japan I learned to see things as they are.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 26th. - 28th. 2018. - Rewritten February 2nd. 2021.
When I was a teenage singer I visited Japan more than once. The country and its culture made a massive positive impact upon me. To this day I love Japanese poetry, ancient and modern, and have been deeply influenced by both Zen and Pure Land Buddhism.
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