Love
How many times one looks for it?
How many times one finds it?
I asked an old stone.
A long wide crack ran across its face,
Like a bad smile.
His face! His Face! Look at his grinning face!
Are you mad?
A fern whispered, swaying from left to right.
It swayed back, right to left,
And murmured.
A rock has no face.
It only wears a mask!
I saw her on a riverbed,
Entering a rocky mouth.
That was not too long ago,
Too recent to become history.
I picked up a fallen cherry blossom,
And looked for her in dead whiteness.
I heard a fly buzzing,
Swinging on a shrine's bell.
She is gone! She is gone!
It also wore a mask.
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