A dog barks
amid the sound of water;
peach blossoms
hang heavy with dewdrops.
In the deep forest
I glimpse a passing deer;
the rushing brook
muffles the noonday bells.
Wild bamboos
slice through the green mist;
streams in flight
hang between emerald peaks.
Nobody knows
where the master has gone.
Left to wonder
I rest among some pines.
From Facing the Moon, translated by Keith Holyoak