The leaves of the small oaks
of Mount Saho
turn a thousand colors —
it's autumn
and the cold rain comes down

Is it always so bleak a sight?
By reed shacks
the fierce-burning
fires of fishermen
boiling down their salt

In the rockbound pool
deep in the mountains,
leaves fall and sink:
so my heart sinks —
could she possibly understand?

If only the world
could stay this way always:
how fine — the towlines
of the little fishing boats
being towed along the shore!

I open the pine door
on streamers of dawn cloud,
the wind of the mountain storm
dashing snow
over my sleeve

I didn't mean
to recall the past,
but in my old village
in twilight rain,
that scent of orange blossoms —

Gull-haunted,
the windblown shore of Susaki
recedes from sight as the tide sweeps in —
you too have gone
but my love grows only stronger

Fabrics swirled in a thousand
baths of crimson,
spreading the sky
as the sun sinks
under the rim of the hill

By Hakone Road
I cross over — and come
to Izu Bay!
On the little island offshore
I see the waves breaking

Bird hunting at a place called Tokami Plain, I saw a clump of boneset blossoming in front of a deserted hut:
Boneset, why are you blooming
in the autumn wind?
Your master's in his
old house now —
didn't you know?