Collecting All The Rains Of May The

Year's End, All Corners Of This Floating World, Swept.

Ballet In The Air... Twin Butterflies Until, Twice White They Meet, They Mate

The Haiku That Reveals Seventy To Eighty Percent Of Its Subject Is Good. Those That Reveal Fifty To Sixty Percent, We Never Tire Of.

A Weathered Skeleton In Windy Fields Of Memory, Piercing Like A Knife.

Even In Kyoto/hearing The Cuckoo's Cry/i Long For Kyoto