The Lonely Grave

Pilgrims will ascend the road in early summer,

Passing my tombstone

Mossy, long forgotten.

Girls will laugh and scatter cherry petals,

Sometimes they will rest in the twisted pine-trees' shade.

If one presses her warm lips to this tablet

The dust of my body will feel a thrill, deep down in the silent earth.

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[76]

[77]

[77]

 Part IV

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[78]

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[79]

 Evening Sky

The sky spreads out its poor array

Of tattered flags,

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