I spent my day on the scorching br hot dust of the road. br Now, in the cool of the evening, I br knock at the door of the inn. It is br deserted and in ruins. br A grim ashath tree spreads its br hungry clutching roots through the br gaping fissures of the walls. br Days have been when wayfarers br came here to wash their weary feet. br They spread their mats in the br courtyard in the dim light of the br early moon, and sat and talked of br strange lands. br They woke refreshed in the morning br when birds made them glad, and br friendly flowers nodded their heads br at them from the wayside. br But no lighted lamp awaited me br when I came here. br The black smudges of smoke left by br many a forgotten evening lamp stare, br like blind eyes, from the wall. br Fireflies flit in the bush near the br dried-up pond, and bamboo branches br fling their shadows on the grass- br grown path. br I am the guest of no one at the end br of my day. br The long night is before me, and I br am tired.