The cry of returning wild geese has ceased;

evening misty clouds look azure.

Snow is falling outside the windows,

smoke from the chimney rises straight upward.

Under the candle-light glistens the phoenix hairpin,

On which the man-shaped ornament is light.

The sounding horn announces the approach of daybreak;

Stars are driven back by the dawn's early light.

It is hard to enjoy spring flowers.

The west wind is still too cold out there.