The branch of blossoms
That conceals from my view
The bright moon…




The cold is bitter –
Awaking in the night, I hear
Cries of waterfowl:
Are they unable to shake off the frost
That has settled thickly on their wings ?

Shuishu, IV

otowa princess

By what trick of fate
Am I obliged to search for
Even the faintest
Clues into the vanished past
To discover who I am?

a lady


In the spring,
When a myriad birds chirp lustily,
All things of nature
Take on new life, while I alone
Move ever onward to old age.



I wish I were a nodding rose
for you to watch me bud and blow,
and pluck me with that slender hand,
and press me to your breasts of snow…



My love, Diodorus, is like a spring
Storm, of the fluid sea’s engendering.
You imitate a thundercloud, then after
The weather clears, your eyes brim with soft laughter.
Like a castaway who counts the steep
Waves, I am tempest-tossed upon the deep;
Give me, that I may know in which direction
To swim, marks of aversion or affection…



You say that you love rain,
but you open your umbrella when it rains…
You say that you love the sun,
but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines…
You say that you love the wind,
But you close your windows when wind blows…
This is why I am afraid;
You say that you love me too…