Asked how old he was,
the boy in the new kimono
stretched out all five fingers.
...
Writing shit about new snow
for the rich
is not art.
...
New Year's Day--
everything is in blossom!
I feel about average.
...
The snow is melting
and the village is flooded
with children.
...
In the thicket's shade
a woman by herself
singing the rice-planting song.
...
Ducks bobbing on the water--
are they also, tonight,
hoping to get lucky?
...
A cuckoo sings
to me, to the mountain,
to me, to the mountain.
...
The world of dew is, yes,
a world of dew,
but even so
...
Face of the spring moon--
about twelve years old,
I'd say.
...