Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
Spring rain leaking through the roof dripping from the wasps' nest.
Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon
Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
Sadly, I part from you; Like a clam torn from its shell, I go, and autumn too.
This autumn- why am I growing old? bird disappearing among clouds.