Grasses are misty, The waters silent- A tranquil evening.
Throw open your window and let the scenery of clouds and sky enter your room.
The end of spring- the poet is brooding about editors.
in my garden I pick a musk melon feeling like a thief
I came to the flowers; I slept beneath them; this was my leisure.
The sea at springtime.All day it rises and falls,yes, rises and falls.