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
