ML Gyokuyoshu Winter Part (Shimotsuki)

At Wakasho, we exchange poetry using ML (mailing list).
I compose songs as I feel like, 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 three heads

``The north wind has calmed down, and the bird of the capital flies away, drawing a tomoe in the ink water.''
“White poinsettia flowers bloom at the feet of people who are waiting for someone to come.”
``Even a single ray of light stays in the rain, and the persimmon tree protects the tree as it swells in the wind.''

This month's poetry list

The morning soup, like the tears of the southern sky, is the heart of this world left behind tomorrow.
Withered hydrangeas with autumn leaves in the valley of Hananuki, preserving life shines yellow.
There is a valley of Hananuki in Hitachi, and although the autumn leaves are only three minutes old, I remember the coming brocade season.
People say that there are no flowers, but Nishiki Naruran is better than Hananuki's Seon.
From the peak of Fukuroda, a hanging bead is divided, and we meet, and in time.
As the Fukuroda Falls become fainter, the nishiki-clad village becomes dusk.
The white pearls burn the peaks and fill with autumn air, and the mountain breeze crosses over the brocades.
In the demon gate, Nantenjue must be soaked in water. Home has been gone for a long time, and happiness has gone to Hitama.
Momijiha waits for the moon, getting wet from the mountain rain in the middle of the night.
Clouds fly over the east wall of Kosai Yukaba. Overture Fuyuya rushes towards the Hokkoku Expressway.
Sasanqua flowers and mouth play with my mother's white gloves as she rubs her chapped hands.
Once you get used to it, your heart will be deeply known if you treat me well.
If you, Morikitaru, are conscious of your heart, you will be able to sleep easily.
My friend, Lily of Mexico, has left me, leaving me with a diamond smile.
Tomorrow at noon, the shadow priest, 5 shaku 5 sun, crosses the road.
In the moonless autumn sky, I look sleepily at the neon light.
I look at the moonless sky, and there is no one to visit the ownerless house.
A gaping night light with no competition
I look at the moonless sky, the ownerless house, and there is no one to visit.
Pick up sesame seeds and eat them, young man, in the rainy streets of Hatase.
It's still early in the morning, and in the room of a wanderer, light shines, the rain of gentleness from an indistinguishable teacher.
At the end of a night with a fleeting luster under the crescent moon, I slurp a large serving of Hakata thin noodles.
If the shadows cast by the remaining leaves are pale, they'll be pink under the winter sky.
I wish I was old enough to prepare for winter without forgetting anything.
If we meet this era, but it becomes far away, it would be good to make the past into the present.
I look up at the barrel filled with thin ice. I hate it forever, but I hurry home.
When Izuko looks up at the first ice, the moon is silent and silent.
The glass cup that floats and disappears, is it a vestige of the sun seen in a distant day?
Even when it blooms in abundance, I get confused and can't decide. You don't know about it, so I don't know.
Chupichupi and the swan bird The wide road you cross is wide, can you cross it?
I look for the red star, but the red light just shines on my old glasses
If you have the time to search for the red star, why don't you take a bath and do some housework?
Even though I search for the whereabouts of the rising moon today, I feel sleepy in the morning under a thick futon.
Even the sky is covered with a blanket of clouds, and I forget about the morning and dream.
As the moon waxes and wanes, people turn to face the winter.
A winter reed field where the voice of a twin crane gently intersects over the night harp.
The two cranes will blow away the trees in winter, and they will also take care of themselves.
Tsunade is alone in the reed-separated boat, and the dusk approaches the sound of a crane.
The word and the sign of old times are coming, now is the time to become the capital.
I didn't know that you departed last night, leaving frozen tears behind.
The year is written in a long series of letters, ``Hisashi'' and ``Hisashi'', as we express gratitude to our thirst.
Roasted sweet chestnuts in the forest and steamed them with wine.A winter racetrack that attracts Milanese people.
No matter where you go, the depth of the blue of your tears reflected in the sky is
It's raining in this blue sky in Musashino, yellow leaves are falling and piling up
It's freezing rain today, just like the dead leaves falling today.If it were to fall, it would soften my cold heart.
Blue is born from blue, blue grows, and then it decays and becomes blue again.
The life that blows the air is breathing, and the sky is breathing.
In the midst of crowds of people, each person has their own path to carry their breasts.
I wonder if Sakufu will relax and look at the empty cup.
The north wind has eased, and the bird is flying away, drawing a tomoe in the ink water.
The clothes exposed to the indigo sky are dyed by the leaves of the trees that flutter in the early morning breeze.
When I park my shoes on the mountain road where the dead leaves rustle, the silent echo echoes in the blue sky.
The glass window makes a noise in the twilight, silently reflecting the Utrillo sky
Let there be light, even the old man of Tokiwa Forest is in love.The sunlight peeking through on a sunny day.
Awesome Artificial Intelligence Poetry Maba - I'll show you Kaheshi and ask about his mood.
There is a rule for something as bright as brocade, and only when it becomes empty should love be found.
I lost my way in my dreams and crossed the bushes, searching for colors and welcoming tomorrow.
On the wall that overlaps with the cloudy sky, the sound of a dog falls as a baby danuki.
The memory of leaves that remember flowers in the mountain village, the dancing flowers of light brocade
The wonder of thirty-one brushstrokes depicting landscapes that retain their memories.
As we wait together, the cherry blossoms that hang down, leaving only a single leaf of color, speak to the ground.
Sunshine waits for your arrival, and the autumn sun sings with no end of shyness.
On the first night of the year, the moon falls on people's hearts, illuminating them with unseen happiness.
In the crescent moon's deep embrace, Nguyen is so beautiful that she gets intoxicated.
The countless figures passing by disappeared into the cloudy sky, blowing with the wind.
Forget-me-nots that have withered and are still comforting me, I push through the bushes and wander down the road.
In the soft winter sun, the insects sing and fly like flies under the snow.
White poinsettia flowers bloom at my feet as I wait for someone to come.
When you hear the voice of the stall driver, “I-Shi-ya-ki-imo,” your heart and soul will be in the winter twilight.
Tsukihoshi only transmits light, but he also remembers many things.
There are as many chores as there are stars under the roof, and even the stars can't help but blink.
A story from Greek mythology that goes beyond the sea. Calendula is a water spirit.
It's nice, and the mouth is loose with the sweet potato Omofu. Ori Shiki's food is interesting.
A small red Kalanchoe looks up at the sky, quietly watching over the thin winter sun
A pair of cranes descending on the reeds of the winter's dead
Two cranes with all their heart, intertwining their shadows like reeds.
I remember the day when the lights of Ginza went out, the swaying lights and the cold night
It is said to be about the silent chirping of a caterpillar insect swaying in the winter breeze.
As the water freezes and jet black winter arrives, I hide the five colors and give birth to spring.
In winter, I sit down on a branch with yellow leaves, wait for the wind, and whisper to myself
Bon appétito with the delicious aroma of roasted chestnuts and wine!
Aogimuru Sora Okubukakitsuki A once upon a time dream in the blue sky
There's an ocean, there's a sea full of blue, and the sky is confused by the swarming blue.
The frost falls on the full moon, and the wind is chilly and dark.
Princess Tatsuta's clothes are dyed in maple, ivy, red and yellow.
Two or three birds still resting in the shade of green leaves, golden birds waiting for the day they fly.
As the flowers open and the red blooms increase, I hear the voices of the children at the bonfire.
The grass is dry, the wind is raging, and the fence is raging, but the colors are stained by the flowers.
A single ray of light stays in the rain, and the persimmon tree protects the tree as it swells in the wind.
Dreaming of a white rabbit in a crescent moon cage, playing with friends in the fields of red stars
The first frost leaves white chrysanthemums, but the golden flowers blend in with the snow.
The white dew trembles in the dryness of the tree, and the five-colored house waits for time.
The autumn moon shows the principle of waxing and waning, and I look at the people drinking and drinking.
The stars in the sky and the rain that sprinkles all over the sky, and the seeds become the rain.
Wearing maifuya brocade robes in the autumn sky with the arrival of the fresh breeze
The leaves brushed away by the tree dryers, and the buds that tremble as they sleep.
As if on a clear autumn night, I gaze at the poem of the lion that dwells in His heart.
The shadows of autumn leaves are still moving as I travel around the country.
The moon is uruhashi song, and it's not far away when we talk about it.
If you look up at the night sky and see a crescent moon rising, you will know that winter has set in this unchanging city.
I'll come back in a year.If you wait, the person who lends you an umbrella will be the same.
Is the moon that has gone too far now a frosty moon? My thoughts go around wondering if I have any regrets.
Flowers that bloom in the clear season, and golden flowers that I want to remember.
If you look around, the five-colored threads will disappear, and the steamy city is the beginning of winter.
I thought about the fallen leaves, but now I'm a migratory bird flying through the frosty moon.
I look at it, dreaming shallowly, tonight, tonight, the sixteenth night, the darkness is blue.
The coldness of the frosty wind, I look up at the long moonlit night and feel the darkness.
Utrillo was a French painter who I knew from a long time ago.
I used calendula for the burns I got from roasting potatoes, hoping it would heal within this year.
Anno sweet potato, which I loved a while ago, is definitely silk sweet now.
For tempura, go to Benito without Magafu. For steamed sweet potatoes, go to Naruto Kintoki.
Tsukiyomi regrets saying goodbye to the coming autumn, and the tears of the freezing winter are coming.
The iron woman of punk rock, whose real name is just like a girl.
As the Heisei era progresses, I will stand on the bridge, and I apologize for the humility of Tadashi Meragi.
Tsukiyo, a samurai who sells umbrellas to stop the rain, and Nozomi whispers, ``Let's get out of time.''
In the quiet winter of the sea guided by the red star, I move forward on my boat.
The mahana who offered his harp to the mercy of the earth
The secret road of Shikishima where the flowers of Kaguhashi words bloom.
The end of the sky is filled with love even when it's moving.
My love is in Yamatachibana, and I wonder if Shinobi Ahezu will also be colored.
Toward the end of the year, I throw away my colors and live each day.
The joy of attending the chrysanthemum banquet and looking up at the prince of Kumoi.

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!