1897–1898
Autumn Colors in Mists
Now brightening and now fading
Over the hills with trailing mists,
The autumn leaves of myriad hues
Forever change before my eyes.
A Retreat with a Nightingale
Though I dwell alone,
With a singing nightingale
Morning and evening as a friend,
I am not lonely.
Cold Moon
Leaving to the plum tree alone
The sign of the awakening spring,
The moonlight still remains
In its wintry gloom.
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