Composed on the road to a mountain temple, in the autumn of a year when he was in mourning.
あさ露のおくての山田かりそめにうき世中を思ひぬるかな
| asagiri no okute no yamada karisome ni uki yo no naka wo omoFinuru kana |
The morning mists Descend upon the late-growing mountain fields; Harvest has begun; so brief And fleeting is this world of ours I feel. |
Tsurayuki
貫之