ABSTRACT
The valley, a snug basin forgotten by consciousness, was filled with the autumnal sunlight of gold, which shone up to the tremendous face of Daibutsu (famous holiness at Kamakura) who, like thought touched by emotion, appeared as if vibrating; Nature there was in the last stage of all evolution, having her energy and strength vaporised into repose. The trees, flowers and grasses in the sacred ground calmed down, to speak somewhat hyperbolically, into the state of Nirvana. The thought that I was a sea-tossed boat even with all oars broken, formed itself then in my mind ; it was natural I felt at once that it was the only place, at least in Japan, where my sea-wounded heart would soon be healed by the virtue of my own prayer, and by the air mist-purple filling the valley most voluptuously. I cannot forget my impression when I heard there the evening bell ring out and the voice of sutra-reading from the temple, and how I lost my human thirst and pride, becoming a faint soul, a streak of scent or a wisp of sigh ; I was a song itself which grew out from my confession. Such was my first impression on finding myself in Daibutsu’s ground, the haven of peace and heavenly love all by itself, soon after I returned home from my long foreign sojourn, that is quite many years ago now ; but it seems it was only yesterday that I, like a thousand waves hurrying toward the Yuigahana shore of Kamakura, hurried to Daibutsu with my own soul of wave-like song of prayer ; can our human souls ever be more than the waves of the sea ?
