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The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

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among <strong>the</strong> green. Steppingstones were scattered<br />

easily over <strong>the</strong> lawn, and wild carnations bloomed<br />

shyly among <strong>the</strong>m. In a corner to <strong>the</strong> left were a well<br />

and a well wheel. A celadon stool on <strong>the</strong> lawn seemed<br />

so hot in <strong>the</strong> sun that it would surely burn anyone who<br />

tried to sit on it. Summer clouds ranged <strong>the</strong>ir dizzying<br />

shoulders over <strong>the</strong> green hills.<br />

It was a bright, quiet garden, without striking<br />

features. Like a rosary rubbed between <strong>the</strong> hands, <strong>the</strong><br />

shrilling <strong>of</strong> cicadas held sway.<br />

<strong>The</strong>re was no o<strong>the</strong>r sound. <strong>The</strong> garden was empty.<br />

He had come, thought Honda, to a place that had no<br />

memories, nothing.<br />

<strong>The</strong> noontide sun <strong>of</strong> summer flowed over <strong>the</strong> still<br />

garden.<br />

November 25, 1970 <strong>The</strong> Sea <strong>of</strong> Fertility<br />

THE END

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