Mountain-rose Petals Falling, Falling, Falling

Come, See The True Flowers Of This Pained World.

In This Poor Body, Composed Of One Hundred Bones And Nine Openings, Is Something Called Spirit, A Flimsy Curtain Swept This Way And That By The Slightest Breeze. It Is Spirit, Such As It Is, Which Led Me To Poetry, At First Little More Than A Pastime, Then The Full Business Of My Life. There Have Been Times When My Spirit, So Dejected, Almost Gave Up The Quest, Other Times When It Was Proud, Triumphant. So It Has Been From The Very Start, Never Finding Peace With Itself, Always Doubting The Worth Of What It Makes.

The Temple Bell Stops But I Still Hear The Sound Coming Out Of The Flowers.

If I Had The Knack I'd Sing Like Cherry Flakes Falling

The Fact That Saigyo Composed A Poem That Begins, "i Shall Be Unhappy Without Loneliness," Shows That He Made Loneliness His Master.