The caravan of evening,
Had lost in the darkness of night,
Long ago,
Only remain behind
Creeping hush in the rooms,
The yellow light of the lamp
Whispering to the pasted posters in the bazaar,
A lonely bird that has just returned from somewhere,
But now perches in the leafless tassels of a tree.
Who know what will happen tomorrow?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem