The crow
walks along there
as if it were tilling the field.









The old dog --
listening for the songs
of earthworms?










I'm going to roll over,
so please move,
cricket.










Under the evening moon
the snail
is stripped to its waist.











A good world --
the dewdrops fall
by ones, by twos.

Even with insects --
some can sing,
some can't.

Approaching my village:



Don't know about the people,
but all the scarecrows
are crooked.











-- Issa (1763 - 1827)