From The Way Of Go The Beauty

People Have Separated From Each Other With Walls Of Concrete That Blocked The Roads To Connection And Love. And Nature Has Been Defeated In The Name Of Development.

I Suppose Even A Woman's Hatred Is A Kind Of Love.

The Road Was Frozen. The Village Lay Quiet Under The Cold Sky. Komako Hitched Up The Skirt Of Her Kimono And Tucked It Into Her Obi. The Moon Shone Like A Blade Frozen In Blue Ice.

Does Pain Go Away And Leave No Trace, Then?’ ‘you Sometimes Even Feel Sentimental For It.

The Winter Moon Becomes A Companion, The Heart Of The Priest, Sunk In Meditation Upon Religion And Philosophy, There In The Mountain Hall, Is Engaged In A Delicate Interplay And Exchange With The Moon; And It Is This Of Which The Poet Sings.