Author Hiroaki Sato Sometime in the third month a man spent a whole night talking with me and went home. The next morning he sent word that he felt frustrated: No wonder you're grieved this morning; you didn't even try to dream one spring night through Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments