The Decay of The Angel

Where the cypress grove gave away to a grove of cryptomeria, there stood a lone nemu tree. The soft clusters of leaves in among the hard needles of the cryptomerias were like wraiths, like afternoon slumber. They made him think of Thailand. A white butterfly from the nemu led him on his way.

from Yukio Mishima “The Decay of The Angel” (Translated by Edward G. Seidensticker)

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