In the cherry blossom's shadethere's no such thingas a stranger.
Like vanishing dew,a passing apparitionor the sudden flashof lightning -- already gone --thus should one regard one's self.
sick of it whatever it's called sick of the namesI dedicate every pore to what's here
Song after Battle:As the young men went by I was looking for him. It surprises me anew That he has gone. It is something To which I cannot be reconciled.Owls hoot at me. Owls hoot at me. That is what...
Children I implore youget out of the burning house nowthree carts wait outsideto save you from a homeless liferelax in the village squarebefore the sky everything's emptyno direction is better or wors...
Never forget:we walk on hell,gazing at flowers.
A falcon hovers at the edge of the sky.Two gulls drift slowly up the river.Vulnerable while they ride the wind,they coast and glide with ease.Dew is heavy on the grass below,the spider's web is ready....