When cuckoo had cried the fourth chilly watch
Into these small hours of the dawn, then I rose,
Lest the silkworms, short of the mulberry leaves,
Hunger might. Lighting up then my way back,
Who’d think that those young ladies and nobles
Weren’t yet through with their all night dancing.
I looked at the sky and the silver moon shone
Thru the willows under their mansion's windows
That dropped their sap into the stream beneath.
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Ron