H  A  I  K  U     S  P  I  R  I  T

Galloping horse

sniffing their hocks ~
scent of violets

The thread of the fishing rod
the summer moon!

Fireflies fireflies!
into the river
darkness is sinking

Water becomes crystal
fireflies fade out ~
there is nothing

But for their shrills
white herons would not be seen ~
snowy morning

This pure water ~
there's no front
nor back

the frog watching out
for the clouds

If morning glories close up
in the morning
it's that they hate mankind!

Above the stream
running after its reflection
a dragonfly

From the purple clouds
to the mauve iris
my thoughts wander

Translation: Gilles Fabre

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