The sea darkens And a wild duck s call Is faintly white.

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?

Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.

Even in Kyoto/Hearing the cuckoo's cry/I long for Kyoto

The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.

Old pond, frog jumps in - plop.