Hokku
A stem of grass, whereon in vain
A dragon fly essayed to light!
O N A B ATTLE-FIELD
Haply the summer grasses are
A relic of the warrior's dream.
The year has closed while still I wear
My sandals and my pilgrim's hat.
Coming this mountain way, no herb
Is lovelier than the violet.
She wraps up rice-cakes, while one hand
Restrains the hair upon her brow.
The end of autumn, and some rooks
Are perched upon a withered branch.
A dragon fly essayed to light!
O N A B ATTLE-FIELD
Haply the summer grasses are
A relic of the warrior's dream.
The year has closed while still I wear
My sandals and my pilgrim's hat.
Coming this mountain way, no herb
Is lovelier than the violet.
She wraps up rice-cakes, while one hand
Restrains the hair upon her brow.
The end of autumn, and some rooks
Are perched upon a withered branch.
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