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Rh To what shall I compare This life of ours? It is like a boat Which at daybreak rows away And leaves no trace behind it."

I would go to some land Where no cuckoos are, I am so melancholy When I hear Their note."

The rippling wistaria That I planted by my house As a memento Of thee whom I love, Is at length in blossom."

When the cuckoo sang, Straightway I drove him off, Bidding him go to you. I wonder did he reach you?"

Go, thou cuckoo, And tell my lord, Who is too busy To come to see me, How much I love him."

Granted that I Am hateful to you, But the flowering orange, That grows by my dwelling, Will you really not come to see it?"

I wear no clothing Drenched with dew From wending my way through the summer herbage; But yet the sleeve of my garment Is never for a moment dry [from tears]."