My heart, it has been pulled away
By the sheerness of the snow,
That white so stunning,
Like the feathers of the swan
Mixed with little pieces of white jade.

And how she covers everything,
Nowhere can resist her permeating fall:
A fall indeed, but one without recovery.

Cherry blossom, no longer so sun-shine bright,
No longer such an elegant pink,
But pearly white, wrapped in a blanket, to preserve and shelter.

The peonies and the orchids have likewise
Been stilled in an ink-wash painting,
Their little faces of colour no longer smiling quite so happily,
But not sadly – simply in thought. Simply…in peace.

The sun is alone in the sky,
His friends, it would seem, wish to avoid the cold
That bites at me and chips at foolish skin like
Wind-blown midges, or birds pecking for grain.
It was a late start to the day,
And an early start to the night.
Away he goes, not in a rush,
Night is always a popular hobby in winter-time.