as unostentatious as black rings;
thebottoms of the cumulous clouds like a ball of cotton
keepsclearing primary streaks from the east.
The Jumble babblers arrive, like on all days
gray and without glamour,
it never passes me for a moment from where,
I humbly regret I am late from bed –
For not having spread them the corns of fox-tailed millets,
nothaving filled thewater-bath daubed saffron-paintto the brim;
the level is low that I fear that the bird bending over on its rim
Might tumble and drown –
The one with “What the heck?”goose-flesh around the neck.
they all look alike, unostentatious,
ravenouslypicking bristle-back butter-fly worms here and there –
makingan impromptu banquet under the Lemon tree.
Seven sisters,no brothers; no brothers
I wonder how they come into the world,
How happy they are.