Where do you hurry with your basket 
this late evening when the marketing is over?
They all have come home with their burdens; 
the moon peeps from above the village trees.
The echoes of the voices calling for the ferry run 
across the dark water to the distant swamp where wild ducks sleep.
Where do you hurry with your basket when the marketing is over?

Sleep has laid her fingers upon the eyes of the earth.
The nests of the crows have become silent, 
and the murmurs of the bamboo leaves are silent.
The labourers home from their fields 
spread their mats in the courtyards.
Where do you hurry with your basket when the marketing is over?