September 10th, 2015

Autumn light enfolds the trees;
I’ve sat so long
The dew wets my robe.
Slanting rays of sun
Reach in under the pines;
A light mist drifts beside the bamboo.
Blossoms of fragrant olive
About to burst open,
Maple leaves not yet urging
Their crimson on us:
Insect voices echo,
The twilight breeze is still.
Deep in poetry musings,
I forget to go home.

Gensei (1623-1668)