I was first introduced to this poem in a tattered second-hand poetry anthology – it was in the chapter entitled “Visions of the End,” which already lends a sinister feel to every poem contained within. But Sakutarō Hagiwara’s short poem does a handy job of casting a deep foreboding without any help from an anthology editor. When Hagiwara succumb to what was most likely lung cancer before his 56th birthday during the throes of WWII, the world lost the father of modern and free verse Japanese poetry. Photo and composition by me.