Autumn
wind colouring the leaves ~
is it this wind that put on my head
my first grey hair?
On the wings of wind
light and faraway
the swallow
Pagoda looming up
and higher
dead leaves raised by the wind
Winter mountain ~
even if there were a walker
no one could see him
Four bare walls ~
only a lamp
to bring comfort in this icy room
Wintry weather ~
the mountain rings with the blade
cutting bamboos
At the tip of my brush
frozen
a drop of water
During meditation
struck the gong lets out
a sleepy mosquito
A house
silently uncovers
the secret of snow
Sky and earth
merging ~
first mist
Spring estuary ~
faraway
a temple's bell-tower
A firefly
silently goes through the lounge ~
green moon
Wintry gales
pushing the setting sun
into the sea
blunt is the blade
cutting through the rice-stone ~
blunt is this year
I would like to be born again
if possible
small as a violet
Solitary moon
left to the night ~
who's watching you?
End of the year ~
the cat stays
curled up on my lap
Through the night train window
white spots ~
plum blossoms?
Plum early blossom
I gave it a name ~
snow petals
In the dark room
catching the silence
a cricket sings
Could science be an art ~
the art of making
fireworks...
Right near my brush
a red dragonfly has settled ~
which soul is it with?
On my own thinking of nothing
already gone
this year's first three days
The dragonfly's dream
settling
on the blade
I am alive
I raise my eyes very high
where a red dragonfly is flying
Men live
men die
wild geese come past
The red dragonfly
has settled on my shoulder
casually and intimately
Ask the wind
which leaf is to fall
first
Bamboo
four five leaves
it is winter soon
Cold morning
my bones are alive
I don't move
Spring shower
huddled against each other
one umbrella for two
In the bath steam
showing up
two shaved skulls
Translation: Gilles Fabre