THE THIN LINE AGAIN Poem by Ryuichi Tamura

In my dreams
the sun
is always above my head
and it keeps growing a pitch-black corona
Since midday
on that summer's day
30 years ago
incomprehensible dreams have persisted
dreams of a strange circulatory movement
of the sun and the blackness

and
at the end of each dream
always a vertical thin line
divides the corona
When I wake up from the dream
the thin line starts from
a small Zen temple
at Wakasa
at noon
on August 15, 1945
stretches to the small yard
of my house
at 5-38-18 Inamuragasaki

Did my feet
step off the thin line?
Or did they not?

Did they not?
Did they?