Today i return late at nine
Our laughter sounds feminine
And cry bitter lemon
Desperate home we recover none
Instead the bamboos
Even the cups the corps
Stood we stood still
Till the last of us who came ill
Wonderful palace to abide
Just to forget remember
So famous too premier
Too single
How often we spinsters this handle
The thirst to revenge
Destitute of days this revenge
Humble cry tumble thrice
Out rise our temper rise
This agony that anger
That revenge wars danger
but now no more
Though we no more
Soon little too lame
Just to keep the cool flame
It hurt to remember all
Or once in a union wall
Whether for not
Unless it hurt
By us and none the price
Non at all the prince
Branch and brand not as bank
Call in vain in vain we had sent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem