Short Poems

On a winter
night
gaps
in my bedchamber eaves
show no hint of dawn;
over and over again
the showers come

Through gaps in the clouds
that drop showers
as they pass,
moonlight
spills down —
fading quickly
into the dark
of the dusky autumn sky.

Down through
fine branches
spills the light of the moon,
casting the shadows
of bamboo leaves
on the window
even in the dark

Nowadays
not a friend
whose heart
goes back to the past
is left in the world.
But on a branch
grown old like me —
blossoms on autumn bush clover.

Here in my cottage
I forget
my loneliness,
thanks to the blossoms —
only to find myself waiting
for someone
to show them to.

On into the night
it comes
right along with me:
that same image
— seen until
the sun went down —
of blossoms
in the branches.

If those many springs
there had been
no blossoms there
to attract men's eyes,
then how much more
a ruin
would be
the capital at Shiga.

If this a Riddle be, then so be it,
Yet Truth approues what therein hid doth lie,
And Truth's most louelie in the Eye of Wit
When she is rob'd with richest misterie:
In few, by losse we haue gott benefitt ,
That's, six for one, by lawfull vserie:
Then, if we gaine by losse, our losse is gaine;
So saith France, Flanders, Scotland, Ireland, Spaine.

Though the Asuka River
is not my home,
my deeps, it seems,
have given way to shallows,
my house become a trickle of coins

THE SUPERIORITY OF MACHINERY

A Mechanic his labor will often discard
If the rate of his pay he dislikes;
But a clock — and its case is uncommonly hard —
Will continue to work though it strikes .