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Oh, Fujitsubo,
to hint at old resentments
just adds to despair.
If only I could vanish!
My guards officer
spoke of how we’d worn heartvine
in the olden days.
I attached a note for the
Prince to an unblossomed branch
and took my farewell.
No more flowers in my cap.
The sad Oe station
is only marked by pine groves.
This is littoral exile!
Candia Comes Clean 