Classic Poem

Peony fallen, and a heap of two or three petals
the twentieth of Deutzia Month, in the daybreak light
coughing, the old man is opening the gate, it seems
the spirit has come to select a bridegroom
an aged hackberry tree axed on the street
over the hundred miles of land I have nowhere to settle
a book on poetics — the malaria left me yesterday, today
in the paddies on the hills, time to harvest early rice
after the evening moon has faded, chickadees fly
autumn and wistful, he stands by the door, alone
eyes ailing, he sips a bitter medicine
sending back to Taima a furoshiki and a letter
next door, he's still talking, that oil vendor
the snow has piled up three feet in the dusk
famished wolves must be lurking near the house
his harelipped wife weeps and weeps
a temple in blossoms — for the bell to be cast she cuts her hair
spring passes, and the sun inclines to the west
Lord Noto's bowstring faintly heard in the distance
the astrologer in retirement divines the times
a horse with a load of millet dropped dead, says the bird
chinaberry trees bloom, scatter flowers along the road through the paddies
a buffeted rainbow and smoke from Asama
happy to offer lodging to the imperial envoy
in a basket the fish caught in the bay have red bellies
though the sun is shining, again it hails
acolyte I love, march out for the hall service
" I don't like people to touch me on the head! "
even for the dark moment on the sixteenth, pressed to do things
they're beating cloths with mallets in Bamba, Matsumoto
no one to carry the palanquin with in the autumn rain
both the kite and the crow keep their faces turned away
the small, curse-bringing shrine in the paddies looks awesome
already the minister seems to have lost his lawsuit
to him, who's alien to blossoms, only rice and soup at the inn
still before dark, in spring, a lamp is lit