When the day closes up and it darkens around
With the thud and footfall
Of the night-time,
The bats beginning to fly,
Crowing and hanging downwards
From the branches of the trees,
I drop the pilgrimage
To take refuge in
From the dark nightfall,
My friend, you just tell,
Where lies it he Inn
To discharge the fatigue,
To get relief from travel sore,
You just tell me
Where the Inn is
So that I can spend
The night peacefully,
But a traveller, a pilgrim I,
I have the fears of my own,
Which but a wayfarer can know it well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem