before the gate -- my walking stick's made a river of melting snow

Not gifted with genius but honestly holding his experiences deep in his heart, he kept his simplicity and humanity.

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

Arise from sleep, old cat, And with great yawns and stretchings... Amble out for love

In the city fields Contemplating cherry-trees... Strangers are like friends

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

Here I'm here- the snow falling.