The tree was barren of leaves but you brought a new spring.
Long green sprouts, verdant flowers, fresh promise.
Mori, if I ever forget my profound gratitude to you,
Let me burn in hell forever.
(Ikkyū Sōjun [1394–1481], Japanese Zen master and poet, to his mistress—the blind minstrel Mori)After all, there are some forms of excess to which one can consent: the insolent omnipresence of verdure and the dazzling outburst of blossom.
Top to bottom, left to right: Kawase Hasui, Anraku Hot Springs, Ōsumi, 1923 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Spring In Yugashima, Izu, 1936 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Mt. Fuji and Sugukawa, 1930s, [source]; Henmi Takashi, Oirase in Spring, 1949 [source]; Kawase Hasui, Kintai Bridge, 1947 [source]; Tsuchiya Koitsu, Banyugawa, 1938 [source]; Nishijima Katsuyuki, Spring in a Village, late 20th c. [source].
