Largo 
Three crickets
And a midsummer night
Becomes bigger

Delicate makeup of silk
in reflections of far distances—
all simple thought is near

the first wine is
a warm foam that I taste
on your tongue

Autumn evening.
On the muddy road
we part.

Morning
I shine
with immensity

And suddenly it’s evening
Everyone stands alone at the heart of the world,
pierced by a ray of sunshine,
and suddenly it’s evening

pine cones on the table
spring once
was alive

downpour
the statue of the hero
does not budge

snowflakes
from the horses’ breath
drifting apart

there’s loneliness
in a forest of tombs
cicadas

out of season
the hedge is in bloom
hoar frost

crawling in the grass
the small green lizard:
he feels like a dragon

among the rubble
on their frightened faces
infinite self-respect

in the middle of the night
on the glass rim
her lipstick

ebb tide –
the wet sand becomes again
a clean slate

otium negotium –
all day counting
daisies

lazy heat
from my cupped hands
I drink the moon

writing poems –
the rain roar
and no children

bare branches
this sudden need
to stroke your hair

under the plane tree
we sit and talk
growing shadows

little girl running
crackling of dry leaves
along the walkway

sleepless night –
the sound of petals
in the courtyard

bonfire
my shadow dances
unbeknownst to me

Crane beak.
Long water snake hanging
full of river.

convalescence:
on my fingers the smell
of tangerines

pond in the evening -
a duck passes through
the full moon

your absence –
the cherry blossoms
still bloom

muggy day
among the office papers
an origami

withering wind
whitens the bones
of a sycamore

windshield wipers
what was I thinking?
windshield wipers

Forty years later
the same music —
shooting stars