Cleared the cornfield, bare the boughs are,
From still waters mist is rolling,
Like а wheel beyond the mountains
Has the silent sun gone bowling.
Dozing is the cart track yonder.
In а daydream it is thinking
One won't have to wait much longer
For the coming of grey winter.
Yesterday as mist came creeping
Did not I see in the darkness
Like а foal the bay moon leaping
Into our snow sledge's harness?