What a strange thing! to be alive beneath cherry blossoms.
Listen, all creeping things, the bell of transience.
Don't kill!... The fly is asking you To save his life By rubbing his hands together
Where there are humans, You'll find flies, And Buddhas.
There is no stranger under the cherry tree.
On the Death of his Child Dew Evaporates And all our world is dew...so dear, So fresh, so fleeting