Summer night-- even the stars are whispering to each other.
In the city fields Contemplating cherry-trees... Strangers are like friends
On the Death of his Child Dew Evaporates And all our world is dew...so dear, So fresh, so fleeting
before the gate -- my walking stick's made a river of melting snow
Where there are humans, You'll find flies, And Buddhas.
In the cherry blossom's shade there's no such thing as a stranger.