Then his visage quickened, another mood switch. His eyes mellowed as heturned and carefully lifted the bud from the vase behind him. It was acamellia, purest white. He held it before him as he turned back, itslong stem still dripping.
"You know, there's a haiku by Basho I love very much. Let me give it inJapanese . . . a haiku only sounds right in the original.
_time ga ka ni
notto hi no deru
yama ji kana."
_She paused to let the meaning sink in, to feel that open- endedsensation a good haiku always sends your imagination spinning off into."How's this for the English?