Whilst dead, I yet live
A fool by his own lusts bound
Buried above ground

When no wind at all
ruffles the Kiri tree
leaves fall of their own will.
–Nozawa Bonchō (1640-1714), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A single pane of glass
protects me from icy winds
who is more fragile?

I protect the glass
In turn, the glass protects me
Perfect symbiosis!

I try in vain to stem the tide
To see in stillness beauty untold
I try in vain to slow the ride
Not knowing
Beauty lies in how things unfold!

Ever so fragile
These eggshells I’m walking on
With thundering feet.

Windshield wipers strain
to clear my view but the storm
is on the inside

One foot leaves the ground
then the other. For a split
second, I’m flying!

Whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.

-Shakespeare, The Tempest Act 2, scene 1, 245-254

Let us arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there’s no rice.
-Basho

The first morning of autumn:
the mirror I investigate
reflects my father’s face
-Shiki Masaoka (loose translation by Michael R. Burch)