On a bare branch a crow is perched - autumn evening
I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!
Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
The journey itself is my home.
Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness