Hillside fringe of wisterias
Fondling an inky firth
Where the heron flounders
And weaves leek and lotus into
Lime wires for a lyre.
Fair fiddle, light lute
Whisper like the wind
For the harem of wraiths
Who waver like flecks of feldspar.
Their only friend is
A lofty lantern
Who with its lustre
Worships the hillside.
