Face of the spring moon- about twelve years old, I'd say.

O snail Climb Mount Fuji But slowly, slowly!

Red morning sky - snail, are you glad of it?

All the time I pray to Buddha I keep on killing mosquitoes.

Listen, all creeping things, the bell of transience.

What a strange thing! to be alive beneath cherry blossoms.

In spring rain a pretty girl yawning.