What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.
In the cherry blossom's shade
there's no such thing
as a stranger.
On the Death of his Child
Dew Evaporates
And all our world is dew...so dear,
So fresh, so fleeting
before the gate -
my walking stick's made a river
of melting snow
Hi! My little hut
Is newly-thatched I see...
Blue morning-glories