(1118–1190)
I’D like to divide
myself in order to see,
among these mountains,
each and every flower
of every cherry tree.
[S.H.]
OVERSEEING all
from high in the cherry tree:
even the flowers
grow sad—will they once again
return to greet the spring?
[S.H.]
THOSE who won’t discard
all attachments to this world
and accept this life
are doomed to return like gold
to die again and again.
[S.H.]
THIS poor grass-roofed hut
of old brushwood may sound
miserable, but
I very quickly found it
altogether suiting my taste.
[S.H.]
THE titmouse perches
happily among its friends—
a reliable
roost safe among the branches
of the passania tree.
[S.H.]
DEEP in a ravine,
in a tree on the old farm,
a single dove sings
out, searching for a friend,
lonely voice of the evening.
[S.H.]
QUITE the contrary
to what I’d thought, passing clouds
are sometimes simply
the moon’s entertainment,
its lovely decoration.
[S.H.]
A Troubled Heart
THE skylark departs,
leaving in the wilderness
a small red lily.
Thus, without friend or attachment,
my heart remains alone.
[S.H.]
DEEP in the mountains,
water splashes down the crags.
If I could stop it,
I’d go in search of wild nuts
that fall this time of year.
[S.H.]
ALONG the trail’s edge
beside a sparkling river
in the willow shade,
I lingered to take a nap—
lingered, and I’m still here.
[S.H.]
At the Grave of the Poet Fujiwara Sanekata
(D. 998, EXILED FROM THE IMPERIAL COURT IN KYOTO)
HE left us nothing
but his own eternal name—
just that final stroke.
One sees only pampas grass
on his poor grave on the moor.
[S.H.]
ON the clear mirror,
just a single speck of dust.
And yet, looking
closely, we see it before
all else—people thinking thus.
[S.H.]
WHOM is it calling
in this high mountain village,
that lonely cuckoo?
When I came here, I came
alone, just wanting a life.
[S.H.]
IN Tsu country,
that bright Naniwa spring—
was it only a dream?
Only withered reeds remain,
blanketed by cold winds.
[S.H.]
TOCK. Tock. The spring
water slowly drips down on
mossy rocks—but not
nearly enough for me
to draw for my hermitage.
[S.H.]
In the Rice Fields of Hōzō Temple
WITH an empty heart
I left society. How
deeply moved I am
when a snipe bursts from the marsh
in the autumn evening
[S.H.]
Touring Kisagata by Boat
IN Kisagata,
the flowering cherry trees
vanish under waves—
until an old fisherman
rows out across blossoms.
[S.H.]
THIS loneliness is
not simply the result
of autumn colors—
even mountain evergreens make
me feel like autumn evening.
[S.H.]
WHATEVER it is,
I cannot understand it,
although gratitude
stubbornly overcomes me
until I’m reduced to tears.
[S.H.]
MY final desire—
that I be allowed to die
under flowering cherries—
on the fifteenth evening
of the second month.
[S.H.]
BEFORE the Buddha
lay sweet cherry blossom
garlands if you should
wish to ease my entry
into the world to come.
[S.H.]