Haiga Archive

All through the night
I listened to the autumn wind
in the hills behind

Today I shall wipe out
the words written in my hat
with the dew of tears

At Yamanaka
no need to pick chrysanthemums—
the scent of hot springs

Whiter, whiter than
the stones of Stone Mountain—
the autumnal wind

Alas for mortality!
underneath the helmet
a grasshopper

What a charming name!
The wind blows through little pines,
Clover and susuki

Redly, redly
The sun shines heartlessly, but
the wind is autumnal