The overgrown plum tree —

There a cawing voice hides

Now and then.

 

 

Dreaming of one departed,

I once woke to view

The moon ripple on the sea.

 

 

Gasping turbot

Flopping in the boat’s bottom…

Soon they are still.

 

 

A traveler asks the way.

I wince —

I cannot recall.

 

 

Peasants — chanting, harvesting.

The snow on the mountains

Is less than yesterday.

 

 

Again, the thought:

If that child were not that child,

Who would he be?

 

 

Chords of music

From a rich man’s house

Mingle with crickets’ chirps.

 

 

The women!

How they chatter over table games

In that room by the river.

 

 

The wind over the ocean —

It brings a rain

From a far land.