Quitting kickball, the gods
went out to prepare for war.
Picking up the globelike ball that was left and holding it by his side,
a bridegroom, a god, walked quietly
to the house made of white wood, fresh with fragrance, and hid in it.
Suddenly, from there
a sound as limpid as a birth cry came out, running,
and in the clear cold dawn, in a bush, spilled a plum blossom.