Farewell to Spring
The weeping willow before my house now stores crows,
the crab apple behind my house past the peak of spring.
Fresh mud in swallow's beak, rain beyond the painted blinds;
bridges like geese in flight, I sing with the plain koto.
When we are melancholy, we're least inclined to talk;
the flowers, about to fall, emit the strongest scent.
Still unfree from the regret of seeing a ruddy face wilt,
I have described my inner thoughts to sing this song.
the crab apple behind my house past the peak of spring.
Fresh mud in swallow's beak, rain beyond the painted blinds;
bridges like geese in flight, I sing with the plain koto.
When we are melancholy, we're least inclined to talk;
the flowers, about to fall, emit the strongest scent.
Still unfree from the regret of seeing a ruddy face wilt,
I have described my inner thoughts to sing this song.
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