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Blowing
out the candle
my room suddenly
lights up.
Through a heavy swarm
of wasps
falls
a white pear-blossom.
How many footprints
have melted
into the spring
waterfall?
As he swings
upward
the stroke of the woodcutter
is heard.
I did not notice
when the sound
of the crickets
had ceased.
Even the fish
have sought refuge
from the winter
rain.
Fallen hornets
scatter
into a thousand
hiding-places.
On the beach
at evening
everything I hear
speaks
Though they stand
straight up
every tree
points elsewhere.
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