Mrs Pheasant fades among the grasses,
Mr Pheasant blazes forth;
Something invisible also passes,
Moving at the same time south and north.
Mr Pheasant struts and poses,
Mrs Pheasant gently leads;
On evening colours and soft breezes
Something secret also feeds.
Spell against sorrow
Sorrow is a cloud that passes
Bearing the heart with it.
Be on your way, cloud,
Leaving the heart behind,
Fresh as a new-laid egg.
Life is a stain on rocks.
Reality does not require our approval.
Sometimes in the night a whisper reaches me:
"Watch and you'll see the rocks themselves rejoice."
An orange moon behind the trees
Glows with ambiguities.
The round question is its own answer
As a dance is to the dancer.
On all that vanishes
In time's disguise.