The autumn chrysanthemums bloom in splendid hues;Dew-kissed, I pluck their petals.I steep them in this sorrow-forgetting brew,To distance myself from worldly cares.Though I drink this cup alone,When the cup is empty, the pot pours on its own.As the sun sets, all bustling life comes to rest,And homeward-bound birds fly to the woods, singing.Beneath my…