Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto
Not to think of yourself / as someone who did not count -- / Festival of the Souls.
A flute with no holes is not a flute.
Summer grasses — all that remains of great soldiers' imperial dreams.
Along my journey / through this transitory world, / new year's housecleaning.
Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.