Haiku
Even in Kyoto--
hearing the cuckoo's cry--
I long for Kyoto.
A crow
has settled on a bare branch--
autumn evening.
The crane's legs
have gotten shorter
in the spring rain.
Another year gone--
hat in hand,
sandals on my feet.
The old pond--
a frog jumps in
sound of water.
The winter sun--
on the horse's back
my frozen shadow.
Seeing people off,
being seen off--
autumn in Kiso.
A cold rain starting
and no hat--
so?
Singing, flying, singing
the cuckoo
keeps busy.
Visiting the graves--
white-haired,
leaning on their canes.
Midnight frost--
I'd borrow
the scarecrow's shirt.
When the winter crysanthemums go
there's nothing to write about
but radishes.
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