Collecting All The Rains Of May The

From All These Trees, In The Salads, The Soup, Everywhere, Cherry Blossoms Fall.

Nothing In The Cry Of Cicadas Suggests They Are About To Die

Poverty's Child - He Starts To Grind The Rice, And Gazes At The Moon.

Now The Swinging Bridge Is Quieted With Creepers ... Like Our Tendrilled Life.

Clapping My Hands With The Echoes The Summer Moon Begins To Dawn.