, ,

Fujitsubo’s voice

curled round her hangings, like smoke.

Genji, now a man,

could no longer draw these drapes

and, if he were to visit

over-sensitive women,

he would freeze to death

on their balconies, while they

admired the swirling snowflakes,

his friend advised him.

When the colours of a robe

don’t match the season,

it is like the wrong partner

and your heart is frost-damaged.