All the day long-
yet not long enough for the skylark,
singing, singing.
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On this road
autumn nightfall
Ungraciously, under
a cricket sings
Eaten alive by
beside my pillow pees
I’m a wanderer
the first winter rain
Tremble, oh my gravemound,
only this autumn wind
This old village–
without persimmon trees.Translated by Robert Hass