Orchidbreathing Incense Into Butterfly's Wings

Seek On High Bare Trails Sky-reflecting Violets... Mountain-top Jewels

O Cricket From Your Cherry Cry No One Would Ever Guess How Quickly You Must Die.

With Every Gust Of Wind, The Butterfly Changes Its Place On The Willow.

Spring Rain Leaking Through The Roof Dripping From The Wasps' Nest.

The Temple Bell Stops But I Still Hear The Sound Coming Out Of The Flowers.