| The Thirteenth Year of Genroku , the Year My Boy Toshiaki Died |
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| There's no color called love in this world |
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| That she may know I lover her and miss her |
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| "At least let it burn just as it burns!" — that way I feel |
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| You are ill; let me put my slender arm |
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| Think it's your snow |
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| When evening comes, plovers fly |
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| The Way it walks, the snail |
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| White peonies about to collapse |
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| Under flying sweetfish |
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