This state of affairs prevailed for more than 10 days. Assembled there were the moon and a feverish wind, The excited, naked flesh of a man and a woman, sweat, perfume, the scars of a life at Sea, the dim memory of ports around the world, a cramped breathless peephole, a young boy’s iron heart — but these cards from a gypsy Pack were scattered, prophesying nothing. This meant a concentration of the author's feelings and mood, while avoiding flattery. The key words here are “cool” and “hidden.” One of them is his “hidden fragrance”: How many times did the bright moon/ shine upon me fluting by The Plum bloom? a decade of Awakening from fond dreams/ what was in the past that I'm recollecting/ is replete with endless grief of parting/ like slim Willow branches and new cattails/ like crows and wild geese in the evening/ like a meadow to the horizon reaching.