waka of budouadana: tuther three fives

Regret

Three great beakers down,
Their brew spilled on thirsty earth,
Their owner suffers,
Feeling only sharp regret,
Blind to the two that remain.

Miser

Stopping at nothing
To get his way, the miser
Cuts off all his friends,
Desiring only profit,
Claiming five swords, needing one.

Beggars

With but five pennies,
Two beggars, one lame, both starved,
Wander through harsh snow,
Painfully aware of those
Feasting behind bright windows.

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