Spring's sweet rains

What comes to mind

A rustling sound, one after another

The shrubs are not quite used to it.

In the ditch, the dead leaves flowed away sharply

Around the bend in the road

Disappearing (and so do the humans)

The plum blossom is poor, but alive

It lives to shame us.

The pine is green and black and wet

Every bone is worth believing in.

"Man must be stoic in the face

Nature's vagaries."

I put down my book and open the window

Forgetting myself as I look out over the mountains.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)