A falcon hovers at the edge of the sky.Two gulls drift slowly up the river.Vulnerable while they ride the wind,they coast and glide with ease.Dew is heavy on the grass below,the spider’s web is ready.Heaven’s...

Dream Song:The heavens Go with me.

Never forget:we walk on hell,gazing at flowers.

Song after Battle:As the young men went by I was looking for him. It surprises me anew That he has gone. It is something To which I cannot be reconciled.Owls hoot at me. Owls hoot...

In the cherry blossom’s shadethere’s no such thingas a stranger.

Dream Song:In the heavens A noise, Like the rustling of the trees.

Many have died; you also will die. The drum of death is being beaten. The world has fallen in love with a dream. Only sayings of the wise will remain.

Dream Song:As my eyes Search the prairie, I feel the summer in the spring. Whenever I pause The noise Of the village.

as jolaha ka maram na jana, jinh jag ani pasarinhh tana;dharti akas dou gad khandaya, chand surya dou nari banaya;sahastra tar le purani puri, ajahu bine kathin hai duri;kahai kabir karm se jori, sut kusut...

Dream Song of Thunders:Sometimes I go about pitying Myself, While I am carried by the wind Across the sky.

tahiya hote pavan nahin pani, tahiya srishti kown utpati;tahiya hote kali nahin phula, tahiya hote garbh nahi mula;tahiya hote vidya nahin Veda, tahiya hote shabd nahin swada;tahiya hote pind nahin basu,nahin dhar dharni na pavan...

Steam Lodge Song of the Sun Dance Ceremony:A voice, I will send. Hear me! The land All over, A voice I am sending! Hear me! I will live!

The plants and flowersI raised about my hutI now surrenderTo the willOf the wind

Song for the Puberty Rite of a Girl Named Cowaka:A poor man takes the songs in his hand And drops them near the place where the sun sets. See, Cowaka, run to them and take...

Children I implore youget out of the burning house nowthree carts wait outsideto save you from a homeless liferelax in the village squarebefore the sky everything’s emptyno direction is better or worseeast is just as...

sick of it whatever it’s called sick of the namesI dedicate every pore to what’s here

Like vanishing dew,a passing apparitionor the sudden flashof lightning — already gone –thus should one regard one’s self.