Short Poems

my child with a cold—
her forelocks almost
reach her eyebrows

on my palm
a blue firefly
smelling of water

spring snow
revives the greenery

Cowherd shining in the sky—
on the earth, a woman bowed
under a pack of food

in the Zen temple
stillness at high noon—
an ant lion's pit

Growing old through all these turbulent years,
I have often come very close to ending my life.
But today truly I have no other choice:
A flaring candle lights up the dark blue sky.

impelled to dream
of soaring in the sky—
goldfish at night

pointing their fingers
and standing on tiptoe
children admire the moon

O love, round as the watermelon,
do not use words sweet as the melon.
What you have said, this and that,
was all wrong, and you mocked me.
Enough, your empty talk
is hollow, like a preserved melon.

The faint moon in a heavy frost;
a solitary goose flies crying.
I fancied it brought me news.
Was it a letter from my love?
No, I hear only the bird
beyond the clouds, incredibly far off.