Before March as arrived
As a month's celebration
Of new year as ended
I remain in solitude
In this shortest month.
In noon when loneliness
Magnitude increases more
I do hear cuckoo's voice
From somewhere my only
Companion at the time.
In noon even mud for me
Seems to waiting for raindrops
And to pervade its smell all around
As the mild wind blows.
Even in that climate I find an inner peace
Which I do not find in most season indeed.
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