Blowing wind

Golden clouds

In rapid flight

Trees in groaning dance

The heater warm on my feet

If, of all fates written for men

All diligent scribbling in stories

Have destined me to stand

At this spot to gaze

Deep into the morning mist

To see a golden sunrise

Then I am as Yudhisthira

Chained to fate at the gambling table

Though I, in contrast,

Delight in this turn of the cards

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