Only He knows of the cup I have spilt
In these times my flowers dry, and they wilt
Gazing at a full moon, weaving in wide arms of a summer stream
Might I lay in this sage grass, and only to dream
Of days that were better, of times I was in peace
Would you come now into my life, and give me release.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem