Farewell, my old fan.

Having scribbled on it,

What could I do but tear it
At the end of summer?
kono aki wa nande
toshiyoru kumo ni tori
this autumn
as-for why grow old
cloud to bird
this autumn
why am I aging so?
to the clouds a bird
this autumn
as reason for growing old
a cloud and a bird
the whole family
all with white hair and canes
visiting graves
souls' festival
today also there is smoke
from the crematory
lotus pond
as they are unplucked
Souls' Festival
Buddha's Death Day
from wrinkled praying hands
the rosaries' sound
not to think of yourself
as someone who did not count -Festival of the Souls
all night
autumn winds being heard
behind the mountains
so clear the sound
echoes to the Big Dipper
the fulling block
taken in my hand
it will vanish in hot tears
autumn frost
bright red
the pitiless sun
autumn winds
autumn wind
broken with sadness
his mulberry stick
autumn winds
in the sliding door's opening
a sharp voice