visiting graves
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bush-clover flowers —
their beads of dew
a strange flower
the autumn sky
Deep into autumn
still not a butterfly
None is travelling
This autumn evening.The first day of the year:thoughts come – and there is loneliness;the autumn dusk is here.An old pondA frog jumps in –Splash!Lightening –Heron’s cryStabs the darknessClouds come from time to time –and bring to men a chance to restfrom looking at the moon.In the cicada’s cryThere’s no sign that can foretellHow soon it…
Bush warbler:
on the porch rail.Translated by Robert Hass
Cold night: the wild duck,
and sleeps awhile.Translated by Robert Hass