Why so scrawny, cat? Starving for fat fish or mice... Or backyard love?
Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
If I had the knack I'd sing like Cherry flakes falling
Poverty's child - he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon.