haiku for architecture 


spring 


new is the parasol

dawn of spring



yin and yang

fiery passion – cool lake

we embrace



a new year is starting, but-

it’s still just as it stand here, 

this ramshackle hut!



a strange, strange thing-

in the house where I was born, 

this morning’s spring!



oh, these spring days!

a nameless little mountain, 

wrapped in morning haze!

 


the place where I was born: 

all I come to - all I touch - 

blossoms of the thorn. 



out from the hollow

of Great Buddha’s nose-

comes a swallow!

 


the chirps of baby sparrows: 

upon the paper of the door, 

dwarf-bamboo shadows. 

 


spring snow

cascades over fences

in white waves 



it is nice to read

news that our spring rain also

visited your town



from what tree’s bloom

it comes, I do not know,

but - this perfume!

  


my little hut

is newly thatched, i see...  

blue morning-glories



I must go begging

for water...morning glories

have captured my well.



go back to our roots 

design a primitive hut

GC can’t build it. 



the Genius Loci

where mind awakens itself

and enigma takes over.



a morning glory vine, 

all blossoming, has thatched

this hut of mine. 

 


cottage

cruppers to make and

window flower

 


so hospitably 

waving at the entrance gate-

the willow tree. 

 


for doors shoji

a fence of straw mats

mansion for sale

 


let in the awaited one

small-entrance key

 


in my house this spring

morning, there’s nothing...that is,

there is everything!

 


components align

within the mind’s eye before

single line is drawn



in the open shop

paperweights on picture books…

young springtime breeze. 

 


the cherry-bloom has come-

a temple, in among the trees, 

is what it has become

 


 overdressed for my thatched hut:

a peony blossoms. 

 


lotus and Lamborghini 

conference beside

round lake

 


to cherry blooms I come,

and under the blossoms go to sleep-

no duties to be done!

 


architecture is

creation of science and art

elements merging



the plum trees bloom-

and pleasure women buy new shoes

in a brothel room. 

 


ashes my burnt hut

but wonderful 

the cherry blooming on my hill 

 


aesthetic beauty

architectural blossoms 

contractors crush them 



yellow rape in bloom:

I come up to the priest’s house, and-

not stopping in, pass on.



the temple bells grow silent

but the blossoms provide their incense―

a perfect evening!

 


a shrine: here, keeping

far from the garden lights, 

float wild birds, sleeping. 



in each hermitage

for a while he stays

then leaves

 


beyond stillness, a

far-off bell drowns the valley

in cool waves of air. 



uncertain transience

shelter from the rain

 


follow the pavement

on the predetermined path

breathe in the sunshine



Some landscape design? 

Rather spend on cheap affect

One liner artworks



in the thicket’s shade, 

and all alone, she’s singing-

the rice-planting maid. 

 


song of the cuckoo: 

in the grove of great bamboos

moonlight seeping through.

 


ceiling-charms color

sooner or later

 


modernism thought

clean, simple complexity

function forms delight



a village where they ring

no bells!-Oh, what do they do

at dusk in spring? 

  


at this same inn

slept pleasure women too.

bush-clover and the moon!

 


the shrine of Kamo

is a good shrine

 


O moon, why must you 

inspire my neighbor to chirp

all night on a flute!

 


in all the rains of May

there is one thing not hidden - 

the bridge at Seta Bay. 

 


May rain pours: 

and now the frogs are swimming

at my door!



altar of Benkei,

Yoshitsune’s sword!...Oh, fly

the carp in May!



over the portal

the ivy grows

evening moon



when my canary

flew away, that was the end

of spring in my house



summer >


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