Here is a greedy man who keeps to himselfThe beautiful pears ripe in his garden.

Days and months are travellers of eternity. So are the years that pass by. Those who steer a boat across the sea, or drive a horse over the earth till they succumb to the weight of years, spend every minute of their lives travelling. There are a great number of ancients, too, who died on the road. I myself have been tempted for a long time by the cloud-moving wind - filled with a strong desire to wander.

Falling ill on a journey,my dreams wanderthe withered fields

Fleas and lice biting;awake all nighta horse pissing close to my ear

In the cicada's cryThere's no sign that can foretellHow soon it must die.

Here, where a thousandcaptains swore grand conquest…tall grass their monument

Clouds come from time to time -and bring to men a chance to restfrom looking at the moon.

On a withered branchA crow has alighted:Nightfall in autumn.

Ah, it is spring,Great spring it is now,Great, great spring - Ah, Great -