| Ñòåðòèé ñòóïíåþ,
Ïîñîõëèé ï'ÿíèòü ïîëèí — Äîëÿ ïîåòà. Ó äàëüí³é âèð³é
Ìàíäð³âíèé âîðîí,
|
Ç Õ²ÐÎÕ²ÒÎ
Ùî çáåð³ãàºø çåëåíü ϳä á³ëèì ñí³ãîì! |
| The first part of spring—
wading in the water, there, a single heron. |
Flashes of lightning
in the ntervals between the fireworks—now ! |
| A white peony
it is called—but even so, a faint redness. An autumn sky, and
Over a ruined temple
One paulownia leaf
On distant mountains
Into the vast sky
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With the pine-tree wind
go scooting and bustling about, water spiders. Flowing on by,
A butterfly's
A dewy tree trunk.
The twilight darkness,
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| Your load being taken off,
what coldness, horse! It is raining. Drawing upon the ground,
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To where my own
teacups belong in the house, returned. With the moon being high
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| The dead volcano's
chilly surface—and also wild strawberries. |
Having a tatal disease,
how beautiful my fingernails over the coals of charcoal! |
| On the white birches
the moonlight is shining but the pasture fence is in fog. Stars above mountains—
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My existence
facing chrysanthemums becomes a silence. Winter chrysanthemum—
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| The girl cutting reeds
turns her face toward the sky and combs out her hair. A temple room's
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Now someone else
is beginning to cut down the distant reeds. A spider's web—
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| All plucked off—
a chicken's feathers lying under a winter moon. |
Into a white peach
the edge of a blade is thrust— the seed has been cut. |
| Without an ending,
the falling snow. What will it bring? |
A tumbled-down
scarecrow's face and over it the sky. |
| While enduring
the loneliness of learning, replenishing the charcoal. Up to the summer weeds
Under a winter moon,
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The string of a kite
invisible upon the sky visible on a finger. The race-starting pistol
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| Sailing in autumn,
being inside one huge and deep blue disk. In the baby carriage,
Falling snow!
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Greenness everywhere
and inside it my own child's teeth starting to grow out. Into a white peach
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| The captive eagle
because of loneliness is flapping his wings—oh! |
Waiting for the bus,
springtime on the avenue cannot be doubted. |
| What a burdensome
life for the grasshoppers to experience frost. |
To be a mistress
is enough to tame me and I cut a watermelon. |
| A rainbow's body bent backward
at its summit a hanging gallows. Ashes are falling
Where sea
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Growing old
and lunatic in a swamp a serpent blossoms with a red flower. They resemble stakes
Hear a war drum sound
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