I have a pretty good memory, but memories are time beings, too, like cherry blossoms or ginkgo leaves; for a while they are beautiful, and then they fade and die.
Looking about I see no cherry blossoms And no crimson leaves A straw-thatched hut by a bay In the autumn dusk.
Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.
However far I gaze Neither cherry blossoms nor Crimson leaves are in sight. Only a fisherman's hut on the shore In the autumnal evening.
The oak tree: not interested in cherry blossoms.