The shortest month ends
 
like a dove hushing itself
 
when a hawk appears.

 
 
 

Hail and freezing rain!
 
Will cherry blossoms ever
 
grace my tree again?

 
 
 

An empty footbridge
 
spanning the winter streambed
 
keeps calling my feet.

 
 
 

Winter morning song—
 
water in the teakettle
 
gurgles merrily.

 
 
 

With cherry blossoms
 
I’m threading my dream needle
 
on this wintry night.

 
 
 

My deep-winter dream:
 
a loved one long departed
 
comes to dance with me.

 
 
 

Sakura blossoms,
 
how many weeks of winter
 
still keep you from me?

 
 
 

February thaw—
 
is that Bashō’s frog I hear,
 
splashing in the pond?

 
 
 

On this wintry day
 
I choose a little-known way,
 
where I walk and pray.

 
 
 

February lunch—
 
I watch some white-crowned sparrows
 
devouring insects.