The autumn wind (In his ennui he blew cold)
Across the rice ears, (On our love)
So sad;
Empty of grain (My heart desolate)
Are they left.
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Ono no Komachi
The autumn wind (In his ennui he blew cold)
Across the rice ears, (On our love)
So sad;
Empty of grain (My heart desolate)
Are they left.