And with the wind lightly turning.
Before the eaves he stakes out his broad earth;
For a moment on the fence top lives through his life.
When you know that all beings are even thus,
You will know what creation is made of.
The puppeteers
These were a gypsy-like people who wandered about Japan making a living by singing and dancing, operating puppets, and performing feats of magic.
Ceaseless wanderers from of old, the puppeteers,
Over all the earth searching ever a new home.
They pitch their tents and sing in the night to the mountain moon;
Restless they seek new paths; I see their smoke in the spring fields.
Youth in the bright capital, their women pampered favorites;
The years of age alone, watching over a hut of thatch.
The traveler passing far off cast suspicious eyes
At the white hair, the vacant, wrinkled face.
