Tell me, doth any know the dark recess
Where dwell the winds that scatter the spring flow'rs?
Hide it not from me! By the heav'nly pow'rs,
I'll search them out to upbraid their wickedness!
Sosei.
VII
No man so callous but he heaves a sigh
When o'er his head the withered cherry-flowers
Come flutt'ring down.—Who knows? the spring's soft show'rs
May be but tears shed by the sorrowing sky.
Kuronushi.
VIII
Whom would your cries, with artful calumny,
Accuse of scatt'ring the pale cherry-flow'rs?
'Tis your own pinions flitting through these bow'rs
That raise the gust which makes them fall and die!
Sosei.
IX
In blossoms the wistaria-tree to-day
Breaks forth, that sweep the wavelets of my lake:—
When will the mountain cuckoo come and make
The garden vocal with his first sweet lay?