On a personal grievance and picking fresh herbs.
わかなおふるはるののもりに我なりてうき世を人につみしらせばや
| wakana ouru haruno no mori ni ware narite ukiyo o hito ni tsumi shiraseba ya | For fresh herbs growing On the plains in springtime a warder Have I become— That this world is cruel, to folk Garnering sins, I would let them know! |
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