Don't kill!... The fly is asking you To save his life By rubbing his hands together
before the gate -- my walking stick's made a river of melting snow
Listen, all creeping things, the bell of transience.
There is no stranger under the cherry tree.
Moon, plum blossoms, this, that, and the day goes
Arise from sleep, old cat, And with great yawns and stretchings... Amble out for love