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It’s not like anything
they compare it to –
the summer moon.

As the sound fades,
the scent of the flowers comes up –
the evening bell.

Chestnut by the eaves –
not many people
notice the blossoms.

Stillness –
the cicada’s cry
drills into the rocks.

As bell tomes fade,
blossom scents take up the ringing –
evening shade!

With the scent of plums
on the mountain road – suddenly,
sunrise comes!

Dawnlight, and from the well
up comes the bucket – in it
a camellia bell.

A mountain stream:
even the stone make songs –
wild cherry trees!