Classic Poem

The pine resin is just an unguent on the year's first day of the rat
I have a cold, though when the plums are fragrant
spring still freezing, my runny nose with icicles again this morning!
paper sleeves as thin as the haze
he learns calligraphy in the light snow
the bamboo, bent now, will rise up sometime
don't know why — it's in front of the window at the end of the guest room
to see the moon, he says, but he must want to wash his hands
a willow with its lower leaves gone, a brush, now the autumn's here
teeth unclean — when was it? now morning mists in the sky
keep coming back — I mean, those geese, I don't want them
it's set: crows are crows
each time I look at you, my love, you're darker
don't get so suntanned
" My dear, I'll send you a black parasol along with this "
my tears afterward will simply be greasy
you're a stone letter in a pot with its mouth shut — that's why I'm lost
" It's Oshu and I can't say a word "
it's going to be tough for the Lord Lieutenant from now on
the way Shizuka feels — what can I compare it to?
viewing the blossoms she can't help pondering the baby in her womb
yes, throughout the long day, long as an umbilical cord