Old pond, frog jumps in - plop.
Just washed, How chill The white leeks!
For this lovely bowl let us arrange these flowers since there is no rice.
Without bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance all over the world?
Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.
Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?