| Though winter passes into springtime, birds songless have come and begun to sing or flowerbuds too stiff have begun to blossom. But I wouldn't go among the foliage to pick those flowers, because of the hillside being overgrown. The grass in the mountain would be too rank for me to pluck and praise flowers. When I look at the leaves on the autumn hillsides, I pick the yellowing ones and admire them, but leave the green ones there with sorrow. That is my regret. However, the autumn hills are better for me. |
