Along the coast the sea roars, and inland the mountains roar – the roaring at the center, like a distant clap of thunder.

The winter moon becomes a companion, the heart of the priest, sunk in meditation upon religion and philosophy, there in the mountain hall, is engaged in a delicate interplay and exchange with the moon; and it is this of which the poet sings.

Our language is primarily for expressing human goodness and beauty.

But a haiku by Buson came into his mind: 'I try to forget this senile love; a chilly autumn shower.' The gloom only grew denser.

THE TRAIN came out of the long tunnel into the snow country.

The road was frozen. The village lay quiet under the cold sky. Komako hitched up the skirt of her kimono and tucked it into her obi. The moon shone like a blade frozen in blue ice.

The snow on the distant mountains was soft and creamy, as if veiled in a faint smoke.