old garden-she empties
a hot-water bottle
under the moon
...
the gourd flowers bloom,
but look-here lies
a phlegm-stuffed Buddha!
...
Under the moonlight, cuckoo cried as if it coughed up blood.
The sad voice kept me waking up,
the cry reminded me of my old home town far away.
...
Night; and once again,
the while I wait for you, cold wind
turns into rain.
...
old garden—she empties
a hot-water bottle
under the moon
...
pruning a rose
sound of the scissors
on a bright May day
...