Don't weep, insects -- Lovers, stars themselves, Must part.

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

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

Moon, plum blossoms, this, that, and the day goes

In the cherry blossom's shade there's no such thing as a stranger.

In spring rain a pretty girl yawning.

There is no stranger under the cherry tree.