Tanka

I. Winter? Spring? Who knows? White buds from the plumtrees wing And mingle with the snows. No blue skies these flowers bring, Yet their fragrance augurs Spring. II. Oh, were the white waves, Far on the glimmering sea That the moonshine laves, Dream flowers drifting to me,— I would cull them, love, for thee. III. Moon, somnolent, white, Mirrored in a waveless sea, What fickle mood of night Urged thee from heaven to flee And live in the dawnlit sea? IV. Like mist on the leas, Fall gently, oh rain of Spring On the orange trees That to Ume’s casement cling— Perchance, she’ll hear the love-bird sing. V. Though love has grown cold The woods are bright with flowers, Why not as of old Go to the wildwood bowers And dream of—bygone hours! VI. Tell, what name beseems These vain and wandering days! Like the bark of dreams That from souls at daybreak strays They are lost on trackless ways. VII. Oh, climb to my lips, Frail muse of the amber wine! Joy to him who sips Cups of fragrant sake wine Flowing from some fount divine. VII. If pleasures be mine As aeons and aeons roll by, Why should I repine That under some future sky I may live as butterfly? IX. Were we able to tell When old age would come our way, We would muffle the bell, Lock the door and go away— Let him call some other day.