SUMMER

      WAKING AT AN INN

      Through white mosquito-nets, as yet undrawn,

       How cool the bay looks in the summer dawn!

      —SÔSEKI

      THE PAVILION ON THE LAKE

      Here in the morning cool, the breezes waft

       The perfume from the lotus-blooms aloft.

      —RIMPÛ

      UNSEEN TILL NOW

      How visibly the gentle morning airs

       Stir in the caterpillar's silky hairs!

      —BUSON

      REFRESHING

      So cool the summer melons look, a few

       Spattered with mud-flecks from the morning dew.

      —BASHÔ

      COUNTRY REFINEMENT

      The stooping women plant their rice along

       The terrace—soiled in everything but song.

      —RAIZAN

      WITH SHARPENED SENSES

      When tall green blades have pierced the iris bed,

       The cuckoo's pointed cry strikes overhead.

      —BASHÔ

      INNOCENCE

      The newborn foal, who stands with knock-kneed pose,

       Over the iris flowers pokes out his nose.

      —ISSA

      SOUND OF THE CROSS

      The cuckoo's singing as it speeds along

       Inscribes a cross against the skylark's song.

      —KYORAI

      SUMMER WATERCOLOUR

      The iris standing in the marsh: so blue,

       Its roots have drunk the sky's reflected hue.

      —HÔ-Ô

      RICH APPAREL

      The happy beggar, whom the passer loathes,

       Wears Earth and Heaven as his summer clothes.

      —KIKAKU

      THE NOON CONVOLVULUS

      Ah! It will never wash its face of blue

       In dew of morning or in evening dew.⁴

      —YAYU

      BROWSING

      This butterfly which on a poppy clings

       Opens and shuts a booklet's paper wings.

      —HÔ-Ô

      PURE QUALITY

      Lilies that lean across my brushwood fence:

       Have clouds of snow a whiteness so intense?

      —SHIKÔ

      PRELUDE FOR KOTO

      A lightning-flash! The liquid chime of dew

       Dripping throughout the forest-high bamboo.

      —BUSON

      INVENTION

      People caught by suddenly pouring skies:

       What ingenious hats they improvise!

      —OTSUYÛ

      HIROSHIGE'S "RAINSTORM AT SUWARA"

      Against the slant grey rain, in silhouette,

       Men and mules are hurrying through the wet.

      —HÔ-Ô

      THE MONSOON

      "How humid are the rains!" I said; whereat

       A large ant walked across my rice-straw mat

      —SHIRÔ

      SAMIDARE

      The downpour prickles on the pond, so sharp

       It hits the heads of shallow-floating carp.

      —SHIKI

      THE WATERFALL

      Its threads of water widen with the rain

       Day after day, until they twist a skein.

      —FUHAKU

      DISCORDANT QUARTET

      Four magpies on a crooked pine-tree fork;

       Their harsh beaks gape, and quarrelsome their talk.

      —HÔ-Ô

      THE GARDEN OF RYÔAN-JI

      Mossbound and weatherworn, the boulders stand;

       Around them flows a stream of silver sand.⁵

      —HÔ-Ô

      THE ARTIST

      His brush abruptly leaps and flicks and swishes:

       Swiftly across the paper swim three fishes.

      —HÔ-Ô

      THE TASTE OF TEA

      Whisked to a steaming emerald froth, the cha

       Is passed around. We sip its flavour: Ah!

      —HÔ-Ô

      DANCERS OF OLD KYOTO

      The geisha flirt their fans; their sashes trail;

       Like goldfish undulating fins and tail.

      —GETTO

      DEEP REFLECTION

      Patiently fishing in the lake, the crane's

       Long red legs have shortened since the rains.

      —BASHÔ

      THE ART OF ARCHERY

      After the sudden shower, along the strand

       Green pine-needles are sticking in the sand.

      —SHIKI

      THE OPPOSITES

      With flowering tongues, the honeysuckle twines

       Among the aloe's armament of spines.

      —HÔ-Ô

      FRIGHTENED DELIGHT

      A sudden downpour! Thunderclouds are cracking!

       And round the farmhouse all the ducks run, quacking!

      —KIKAKU

      HOME-GROWN

      Washed by monsoonal summer's rainy weeks,

       How chill and white, how fresh and green, are leeks!

      —BASHÔ

      ANOTHER