page 31

Compensation

I went down into the trivial city to transact business.
In the tramcar passengers argued without logic;
In the shops too costly wares;
In the Bank too little money;
In the long streets too hot sun.

But at the Post Office they gave me your letter.
In my hill garden at sunset I read it.
A cool wind from the seawaves blew gently
And I saw that little Omi-Kin-Kan had put forth a green shoot.