taking its time the persimmons too ripen
ochitsuite kaki mo urete kuru
1934–1936 · Toward the mountains, toward the water
Sōmokutō · Walking Mountains, Walking Waters (Sankō suikō)
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The persimmon is in no hurry. Bathed in sun, wet with night dew, it ripens little by little, unhurried. Watching it, his own heart is drawn into the same stillness. The unhurried flow of an autumn that does not rush its harvest becomes the poem's own slow measure.