ML Gyokuyo Collection Winter (November 2019)

At Wakasho, we exchange songs on ML (mailing list). We compose songs as we please, regardless of genre, such as poems about flowers, birds, wind, and moon, or realistic songs from everyday life. You are free to join or withdraw, so please feel free to join.
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This month's five picks

“The grass dies, and the eyes of the hermitage wither, but there are lamps and sasanqua flowers on the fence.”

“Sigiriya dances with the soul exposed to the wind of the moon-crying cloud”

“I woke up hearing the sound of stepping on frost, but it was dark and the wind was raging.”

``The moon that is one half of the shadow of a ninja with endless feelings''

``The end of the journey is hazy, and the pale winter rainbow is fleeting, like my love.''

This month's poetry list

The maple leaves in the garden grow more dense with each drop of rain and dew.
The colors that let me sleep in the leaves, and the rain that tells me it's time to wake up.
The undyed color of Shirabe is like the threads that are plucked every night in Mubatama.
The crisp autumn night that wakes me up becomes more and more colored with each passing day.
On the night of the journey, I am warm and warm.
Niwa no Hani is raining on a rainy day Kazofu is planning on an autumn night Irofu Kokoro Kasanemu
Even in the dark and confusing sky, geese fly past the sound, and the stars fly by.
When the wild goose waits for the sound, are the drops of the oar dropping the boatman on Nanno?
Is it the winter sky that hides on the road of heavenly beings?
The brush of Ao Nagi, who is resting on the blue, is the leaf of your words on the wave path.
Even at the edge of the old eaves where the trees hang
A cotton cloud hangs over the charcoal of the mother's cheeks
White clouds of white clouds made of cotton
A white cloud of cotton that looks like a scratchy, rough texture.
The color of the peach is so cute that the color of the peach is so cute.
The leaves of autumn fall and scatter, vividly, and before you know it, the winter season has begun to fade away.
A star-flowing wish makes a wild goose twilight, and the other jade azure disappears into the darkness.
If you ask the messenger of the Azusa star, the dimly lit winter fireflies are
If the color comes naturally, the warmth of a camel will be felt.
Towards the end, only the people of high spirits are forgiven and clothed in winter's darkness.
I wonder if the futa kakisora will be in the white clouds with the shadow of momozutafu and other things.
Even though the winter is shining brightly and darkly,
People are talking to Mikatsu Sane (Saya) in the winter garden with autumn leaves.
The light of the beacon of time shines brightly on the winter-dead hedge.
The grass withers and the eyes of the hermitage wither, but there are lamps and sasanqua flowers on the fence.
Winter is coming to Sanakazura Ahiminu and Honagawa is wandering to Kiyohinikeri.
In the winter, Ahiminu wanders in the middle of nowhere.
A faint glow lingers on the path of the frost-dead mountain.
Wandering away, the pine tree is covered with snow, and I think about you.
A sasanqua flower blooms in front of a child playing with a frost-scarred appearance in winter.
Even though the door of darkness has closed, the distant sound of the deer still cries.
The twigs of Atsumori accompany the sound of the deer with the flute, and autumn dies out in vain.
The sky of caged birds is disturbed by the sound of love flute and wild geese return to the sky.
The cherry blossoms are blooming on the cheeks.
In memory of the hanging twig palms of Suma, there is no trace.
At the end of the flute, the dance of the sway dwells in the world.
Sayaka Mochizuki on an autumn night, and in the evening the Sasanqua flowers on the hedge shine in the shadow of the moon
Sigiriya exposes himself to the wind of the moon-weeping clouds and dances with his soul.
At the end of the day, I'm going to go to Honkani Nihofusazanka.
There is a dancer who puts a sashimi on the breast of the chest and cries for candy.
The sound of swords and swords (swords and swords) is the name of the name. I will remember it. I will play it in the camp before the night. With you.
Mitsurugi's unseen dream that has been haunting him for 50 years
The dew on the road to Mutsu, the voice I don't know, but the thoughts of flowers and koyoi.
If Isatoyo and you are dancing together, Isotose is the sword of dreams.
A poet who longs for his words, and what kind of flowers will bloom tomorrow.
Mai to Mai to Uta Hito and the others danced beautifully as they approached the Song Garden.
The surface of the river in the cold season of the field of Hidamari is in the pot of your hands.
The string of breath that is still alive as it is played is the leaves of blue words that come from Shino.
Even if you don't cut the autumn leaves, the wind will blow them away, and in the spring you'll see young twigs.
The children of the frost compare their heights with the man who pushes up the stretch of land.
I wake up hearing the sound of stepping on frost, but I'm alone in the darkness and the wind is raging.
The breath of soberness hints at the purple color of the murky voice.
A person who reads the words of the season in an idle way on a path with no path is a single leaf.
Hanamo Miji Izure Masaru and Sadamane Autumn Sky Naga Muyama and Umashi
Even on Yumeji, the peak of Hagizuka remains as long as Guo Gong Mountain.
In the autumn breeze, the poppy flowers burn silently on the mountain, vowing to be here as their hometown.
A single flower that leaves its hometown and takes root in many layers of sleep, and one day blooms.
If you go alone to the Katsura shadow, the bush clovers of Koshiji are swaying in the distance.
If you look at Kaherikoshi Gahagiwara, you might see the moon at the edge of the eaves.
When I look at the moon, it reminds me of my hometown and the tears at the edge of the eaves.
The moon and Aramu Autumn, and the old Autumn.
The moon that crosses the sky is like a streetlight in Kawaraji, a distant hometown
Even the shadows at the edge of the autumn clover eaves become the moon chanting in the darkness of the depths of the water.
Even in this murky world, there is only one seed of the character ninja.The flame of the soul burns at the bottom of the water.
Beyond the clear waters of a dream seen in a single drop of compassion
When the time comes, I spread out a leaf from the invisible thread and use it as a bookmark for the road.
The heart of words is the mirror of the soul, and the song is a guide to the path.
Who will raise the golden cup and look at the snow falling on the winter-dead fields?
The scent rides the wind as we touch our necks, and the flowers bloom everywhere.
The one half of the moon that is hidden in the shadows of my endless feelings
The two companions are wondering about the melancholy moonlight of a lifetime.
A person's heart becomes clearer in the sound of a song passing by in the shadow of the moon.
Who left behind the golden cup in the words of Yuku Nobe of White Tae?
If you hold a golden cup in your hand, it will smell, but your collar will open at will.
Without knowing the time, the wind flowers dance in the snowy glasses while layering the knots on top of each other.
Abandon your heart that is stained with flowers, and on a winter's day, you will grow a daffodil flower.
A five-colored cloth dropped by a maiden from Tianjin decorates the midwinter sky and disappears.
The end of the journey is hazy, a pale winter rainbow, and the journey is fleeting, resembling my love.
Even if you can't see it, you can enjoy the five-colored kana knot in the blue winter sky.
Even though Kinuta the 30th day of the month has long since run out, I can't stop crying tonight.
A plane in the clear sky.Looking at the white frost in the morning, it's winter weather.

Learn the basics of waka poetry and try reciting it!

We are holding a "Utajuku" with the goal of learning from representative classical works and being able to compose traditional "Waka" on an individual basis!