Here is the place where your eyes rested
Upon the sparrows flitting through the pine boughs
Here is the place where your body rested
...
But these feelings feel like spring
The old man mutters to himself
On a flagstone in a burned-out field
That is what one particular man and his fate muttered
...
The day has ended
The day has ended. Fill your
own sake-cup, the rest is all in vain
Sing to yourself your own verse
...
With evening
A beautiful adolescent returns home
Leaving the monastery gate
...
artless are the notes
your childlike fingers strum
the koto music of Japan soars to the sky
listening to you play a melody
...
in the middle of the night before a collection of my poetry comes out
solely due to my limited talent
may my verse
be an inception
...
he day is ending
out of a monastery gate
an alluring youth is coming home
...
you were here looking up
at the pine branches where pine sparrows flit about
you were here resting on the withered grass
the grass remains, still withered
...
After we were defeated at war
ten million babies were born
...