| I broil shrimp and play with my illness |
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| Calls of a clapper rail far into the night |
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| Over the shingled roof the shower has passed |
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| The Clear-toned cicadas have exhausted their voices |
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| The Rim of a foot-wearying mountain hazy at dawn |
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| The Clouds of May rain have closed into one |
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| Shallow of me: I have grieved over this uncertain life |
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| Counting the dewdrops that vie in falling off |
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| A Short night — outside the window bamboo rustles |
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| Deep in the mountains, through the pine door closed |
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