The cranes have come back to the temple,
The winds are flapping the flags about,
Through a flute of reeds
I will blow a song.
Let my song sigh as the breeze through the cryptomerias,
And pause like long flags flapping,
And dart and flutter aloft, like a wind-bewildered crane.
Wind and Chrysanthemum
Chrysanthemums bending
Before the wind.
Chrysanthemums wavering
In the black choked grasses.
The wind frowns at them,
He tears off a green and orange stalk of broken chrysanthemum.
The chrysanthemums spread their flattered heads,
And scurry off before the wind.