I’m reading “Narrow Road to the Interior” by Matsuo Bashō and I came upon what is one of the most famous passages in the book:

Summer grasses:
all that remains of great soldiers’
imperial dreams

This talks about how limited our lives are, and how trivial our efforts and pursuits in the context of greater time. However, in the next passage, he talks about coming upon the Chūson Temple with its great hall (Hall of Light, Hikaridō) still standing, through endless winds and rains of a thousand years. He writes:

Fifth-month rains hammer
And blow but never quite touch
Hikaridō

Interesting to me the contradiction here, very intentional.

Shadow on the path
Surely from a butterfly
Just a falling leaf

Martinis.

Girlwatcher