Wintersweet
Near the broken bridge outside the post station,
Unappreciated, a wintersweet blooms lonely.
Cast by the gloomy dusk in isolation,
It's ravaged by the wind and rain ruthlessly.
Without intention to bloom first in spring lushed,
It’s envied by many a flower.
Even if the blossoms fall and are ground to dust,
Their fragrance lingers in the world forever.
(Tran.)
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