“ Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home. ”
This autumn-why am I growing old?bird disappearing among clouds.
~ Bashō Matsuo
Summer grasses,All that remainsOf soldiers' dreams
Dead my old fine hopesAnd dry my dreaming but still...Iris, blue each spring
When a country is defeated, there remain only mountains and rivers, and on a ruined castle in spring only grasses thrive. I sat down on my hat and wept bitterly till I almost forgot time.A thicket of summer grassIs all that remainsOf the dreams and ambitionsOf ancient warriors.
