From The Way Of Go The Beauty

The Sound Of The Freezing Of Snow Over The Land Seemed To Roar Deep Into The Earth. There Was No Moon. The Stars, Almost Too Many Of Them To Be True, Came Forward So Brightly That It Was As If They Were Falling With The Swiftness Of The Void. As The Stars Came Nearer, The Sky Retreated Deeper And Deeper Into The Night Color. The Layers Of The Border Range, Indistinguishable One From Another, Cast Their Heaviness At The Skirt Of The Starry Sky In A Blackness Grave And Somber Enough To Communicate Their Mass. The Whole Of The Night Scene Came Together In A Clear, Tranquil Harmony.

But A Haiku By Buson Came Into His Mind: 'i Try To Forget This Senile Love; A Chilly Autumn Shower.' The Gloom Only Grew Denser.

The True Joy Of A Moonlit Night Is Something We No Longer Understand. Only The Men Of Old, When There Were No Lights, Could Understand The True Joy Of A Moonlit Night.

It's Remarkable How We Go On Year After Year, Doing The Same Old Things. We Get Tired And Bored, And Ask When They'll Come For Us

Lunatics Have No Age. If We Were Crazy, You And I, We Might Be A Great Deal Younger.