Short Poems

Warp of frost, weft of dew,
these must be weak indeed:
no sooner are they woven than
the mountain's brocades
scatter in shreds.

The gusting wind
shows itself
in a cloak of many colors:
a scattering of
autumn leaves.

Does the autumn moon
cast its light so starkly
on the mountain's edge
that we may count
each colored leaf that falls?

Tatsuta River is
flush with red leaves:
autumn showers must be
falling on Mimuro Mountain

Surely the autumn dew
must have its varied ways
to turn the mountain's leaves
so many shades

If I were to bend a bough
to pluck it
they must surely scatter:
trembling drops of dew
on autumn bush clover.

Should I pluck the drops of dew
to thread as jewels
they'd vanish:
best see them as they are,
set on boughs of clover.

Longing and longing
tonight at last we meet:
may the mist rise thick
on the River of Heaven
and keep the day from dawning.

Only yesterday
seedlings were planted:
so soon, now,
ears of grain tremble
as the autumn wind blows.

Are they not like
this fleeting world?
Cherry blossoms:
no sooner do they flower
than they fall.