Old Pond, Frog Jumps In - Plop.

Farewell, My Old Fan. / Having Scribbled On It, / What Could I Do But Tear It / At The End Of Summer?

April's Air Stirs In Willow-leaves...a Butterfly Floats And Balances

Summer Grasses — All That Remains Of Great Soldiers' Imperial Dreams.

Winter Garden, The Moon Thinned To A Thread, Insects Singing.

This Autumn- Why Am I Growing Old? Bird Disappearing Among Clouds.