poetry Kobayashi Issa, "Mosquito at my ear" Issa laments one of the more miserable summer experiences. A literal bloodsucker, not content with biting and stealing, makes its presence felt loudly.
poetry Kobayashi Issa, "the butterfly I passed" There are moments when we're more than we are, and they're not necessarily moments of triumphant heroism.
poetry Kobayashi Issa, "[the snow is melting]" I should say, the first time I read this poem, I thought Issa was in "grouchy old man" mode, bemoaning the noisy, shouty kids disturbing his peace.