The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Contributed by: Zaady
Just washed, How chill The white leeks!
From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
O cricket from your cherry cry No one would ever guess How quickly you must die.
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
Copyright © 2015 Gaiam, Inc.