Haiga Archive

They sowed a whole field
and only then did I leave
Saigyo’s willow tree

In summer mountains
I bow before his high clogs—
my journey’s just begun.

They make me recall
a lady’s powder puff—
these saffron blossoms.

Deft hands that now pluck
seedlings, once you used to press
patterns from stones

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

Have the rains of spring
spared you from their onslaught,
shining hall of Gold?

Tide-crossing—
the crane’s long legs are wetted
how cool the sea is!