Plum blossoms -
on the gardener's brow
spring's first sweat

Winter evening -
softly snow is falling
on old ashes

Winter willow -
dressed in thick fog
and a robin

Walked along
untill the road vanished
in unfound words

Dead branches -
this skeleton
of the storm

Winter wheat -
will I ever grow
so old too?

More and more
he joins our table -
the quiet guest