Among twenty snowy mountains
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird

I was of three minds
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds

The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds
It was a small part of the pantomime

A man and a woman
Are one
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one

I do not know which to prefer
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes
The blackbird whistling
Or just after

Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause