Mono no Aware

I have just stood before the open window of my bedroom and I have breathed in deeply all the honeysuckle-perfumed air, the sunshine, the snowdrops of winter, the carouses of spring, the primroses, the crooning pigeons, the trills of the birds, the entire procession of soft winds and cool smells of frail colors and petal-textured skies, the knotted snake greys of old vine roots, the vertical shoots of young branches, the dank smell of old leaves, of wet earth, of torn roots, and fresh-cut grass, winter, summer, and fall, sunrises and sunsets, storms and lulls, wheat and chestnuts, wild strawberries and wild roses, violets and damp logs, burnt fields and new poppies.

"There are days when the sky is filled with the odor of lilac, when darkness becomes desire, when there is nothing that does not wish to be born."

It was a wonderful clear moonlight night in May; the air was filled with soft perfume.

A bright, serene May it was; days of blue sky, placid sunshine,