Autumn Grasses
In fields of bush clover
and hay-scent grass
the autumn moon takes
refuge
The cricket's song is
gold
Zeshin's loneliness
taught him this
Who is coming?
What will come to pass,
and pass?
Neither bruise nor
sweetness nor cool air
not-knowing
knows the way
And the moon?
Who among us does not
wander, and flare
and bow to the ground?
Who does not savor, and
stand open
if only in secret
taking heart in the
ripening of the moon?
(Shibata Zeshin,
Autumn Grasses, two-panel screen)
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