In a little room
 
whose windows will not open,
 
I dream spring mountains!

 
 
 

on the verge of spring
 
three nights of sacred dreaming
 
about Sister Moon

 
 
 

Shorter, colder days—
 
I dream of planting fresh seeds
 
and greeting earthworms.

 
 
 

In my autumn dream
 
I am the last maple leaf
 
clinging to its tree.

 
 

Telling my father
 
that all his roses have died,
 
I wake from my dream.

 
 
 

In my winter dream
 
I place three pink carnations
 
in a blue glass vase.

 
 
 

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.

 
 
 

The year’s first good dream—
 
though I’m in a strange city,
 
there are no strangers.

 
 
 

In my year-end dream,
 
I’m sure I smell fresh blossoms
 
on my cherry tree.