Pine cones, too, u sed fo r fire, th e bean s a re ready
It's we t around th e well , evening wind
*'
Using u p ma tches, in th e sea wind , we ta lk
H aving climbed th e hill , I see a ll the solita ry vill ages
Sliding wooden cl ogs under ra iny camelli a, h e's come to visit
*'
She doesn ' t know wh a t
to
do with th e bea uty of h er ha ir
Saying, I scold him and h e cri es, and then makin g him cry
*'
Fl owers variously in bl oom, a ll for sale
*'
No t enough morning to sweep in , onl y mo rning p ine needles
An autumn wind ston e g ives birth to a child, it 's tha t story
As if thrown away, wa termelon s go on gelling fat
*'
The woman in the newspaper on the wa ll is a lways cry ing
H aving the sea wind pass th rough , a lways a lone
Bon holiday h as turn ed into rai n , th e island 's tin y houses
Catching a cold, I stay put, no t reciting th e sutra, it's dead qui et
*'
In
the midst of onl y the sound of wind I draw wa ter
