What do you think?
Rate this book


Hardcover
Published June 1, 1969
No human being, past the thoughtless age of boyhood, will wantonly murder any creature which holds its life by the same tenure that he does.
— Henry David Thoreau
A mosquito bit me
Under the cherry tree,
And I spoke ill
Even of the blossoms.
*
For you fleas too,
The night must be long,
It must be so lonely.
*
We are forever talking
About snowmen
And yet they last
No more than a day.
*
The snail
Goes to bed and gets up
Just as he is.

The snail
Goes to bed and gets up
Just as he is.
The cool breeze
Takes up its abode
Even in a single blade of grass.
Under the cherry-blossoms,
None are
Utter strangers.