First Snow-falling-on The Half-finished Bridge.

Breaking The Silence Of An Ancient Pond, A Frog Jumped Into Water - A Deep Resonance.

My Body, Now Close To Fifty Years Of Age, Has Become An Old Tree That Bears Bitter Peaches, A Snail Which Has Lost Its Shell, A Bagworm Separated From Its Bag; It Drifts With The Winds And Clouds That Know No Destination. Morning And Night I Have Eaten Traveler's Fare, And Have Held Out For Alms A Pilgrim's Wallet.

The Old Pond, Ah! A Frog Jumps In: The Water's Sound.

Old Pond, Leap-splash - A Frog.

A Thicket Of Summer Grass / Is All That Remains / Of The Dreams Of Ancient Warriors.