On the Third Anniversary
of Shiki’s Death
1905
In this life of a waking-dream,
Two years already have gone,
And thrice the autumn has come.
In the garden hoary, drenched in rain,
The coxcombs and the begonias
Bloom, but only in name,
And the amaranth is no more.
No bird twitters in the cage;
The gourd trellis is rotten and torn;
Even the songs of insects
By the cedar hedge are desolate.
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