The Second Garden
An old pond!
A frog jumps in-
The sound of water.
The first soft snow!
Enough to bend the leaves
Of the Willow low.
|
The Second Garden |
An old pond! |
The first soft snow! |
| In the cicada's cry No sign can foretell How soon it must die. |
No
one travels
Along this way but I,
This autumn
evening.
Dream moon,
wonder-light
The forest floor trembles, in
iridescent quilts.
Poems by Basho, Issa, and Jeetk
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