The end of spring- the poet is brooding about editors.

In the spring rain, The pond and the river Have become one.

Young leaves The sound of a waterfall Heard from far and near.

I came to the flowers; I slept beneath them; this was my leisure.

Grasses are misty, The waters silent- A tranquil evening.

In pale moonlight / the wisteria's scent / comes from far away.

In lantern-light My yellow Chrysanthemums Lost all their color