(I) The Blacksmith
The furnace fire makes bright the earth and sky,
Into the purple smoke red sparks wild fly.
The blacksmiths’ faces flush in moonlit night,
Their songs would fill the river cold with fright.
(II) My White Hair
Long, long is my whitening hair,
Long, long is it laden with care.
I look into my mirror bright;
From where comes autumn frost in sight?