Precious hairpin, broken, halved
At the Peach-Leaf Ferry where
We parted; darkening mist and willow shround the place.
I dread to climb the tower-top stair;
...
In days when I was young and didn't know the taste of sorrow
I like to climb the storied tower,
I like to climb the storied tower;
To write the latest odes I forced myself to tell of sorrow.
...
right and wrong gain and loss each hard to picture clearly
so I began to study wisdom of the ancents willy-nilly
but closed the books I'd double up wth laughter
and have to get up pace the floor and rub my belly
...
Plum blossoms
wild goose weather
heavy frost
chill seeps through the window screen
...
I wrote this for fun when drunk.
a thousand hands held high to heaven
swept along with a torrent of shouts
...