You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in a <br />thousand pieces. <br />Why is it so far away? <br /> <br />Thinking of you, I go up on the hill and wander. <br />Around the hill, why is it such a sadness? <br /> <br />Dandelions yellow and shepherds-purse blooming white -- <br />not anyone to look at them. <br /> <br />I hear a pheasant, calling and calling fervently. <br />Once a friend was there across the river, living. <br /> <br />Ghostly smoke rises and fades away with a west wind <br />strong in fields of small bamboo grasses and reedy fields. <br />Nowhere to leave for. <br /> <br />Once a friend was there across the river, living, but today <br />not even a bird sings a song. <br /> <br />You left in the morning, at evening my heart is in a <br />thousand pieces. <br />Why is it so far away? <br /> <br />In my grass hut by the Amida image I light no candle, <br />offer no flowers, and only sit here alone. <br />This evening, how invaluable it is. <br /> <br />Priest Buson <br />with a thousand bowings<br /><br />Yosa Buson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/elegy-to-the-old-man-hokuju/
