May the man who gained my trust but did not come
Turn to a devil, sprouting triple horns.
Then he would find himself shunned by mankind.
May he become a bird of the water-paddy
With frost and snow and hailstones raining down.
Then he would find his feet frozen fast.
May he become the duckweed on the pond.
Then he would sway and shiver as he walked.
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