stopping forbidden
by the side of the turnpike:
heron's nesting pond
In the chilling wind
gently pricking my eyelids
the frozen spring mist
pigeons standing still...
their heads bobbing right and left
in early spring sun
cloudy winter sky-
circling seagulls snapped away
by a sudden gust
railroad station pit:
suspended in an updraft
a dead leaf twitches
scent of hyacinths-
gentle talk in therapy
by the flower pot
Bach prelude and fugue
heard in the grassy churchyard-
robin pecks for worms
autumn graveyard mist...
sparrow atop the gravestone
eyes me then flies off
gusting winter wind...
small buddha in the front yard
scarf around his neck
through weeping willows
a sharp distant cry - is it
a bird or baby?
bitter cold midnight...
someone rifling through the trash
for bottles and cans
summer butterfly
flitting across my path and
into the dark woods
lightly falling snow
in the road a crow pecking
at a mashed pumpkin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem