Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
Old pond, frog jumps in - plop.
Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
There came a day when the clouds drifting along with the wind aroused a wanderlust in me, and I set off on a journey to roam along the seashores
I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.