(On September 13th I visit a friend on the bank of the Sumida River)
“Go home I must,” so saying I rose, And all at once in the thicket The crickets began to chirp merrily,
And the moon slipped behind A thin veil of clouds.
From a narrow rift in the clouds A broken moonbeam quavers
Over the ears of knot-weeds By the roadside.
