THE FLUTE-SOUND of a holiday music
floats in the air.
It is not the time for me to sit and brood alone.
The shiuli branches shiver
with the thrill of an impending flower-time,
the touch of the dew is over the woodland.
On the fairy web in the forest path
the light and shadow feel each other.
The tall grass sends waves of laughter to the sky in its flowers,
and I gaze upon the horizon, seeking for my song.