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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.