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

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

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

in my garden I pick a musk melon feeling like a thief

The spring sea rising and falling, rising and falling all day.

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

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