Preparing in the season of winter,
I prayed to be calm and silent.
The new-fallen snow piled up gradually,
and I could see the distant mountain indistinctly.
All year round,
the poetry to sing loudly was about the natural disaster.
And in this month,
what I had asked on the way was about the occasion of the political state.
The assemblymen who discussed and deprecated
about the mistakes and the defects of their opponents
preserved their warmth.
The person (I) who had a difficult time in their difficult situation,
mended the torn seams of their coarse clothing.
In such sufferings,
I always believe to come tomorrow.
Because the fallen maple leaves
which blown up and fluttered are red particularly.
Masaya Samura (pen name: Gensai Shirakawa) in Osaka, Japan
(at October 23, 2016 (for October 22))