One ordinary night, when you are playing with your fingernail
By the store, my dreary eyes are filled with seldom pleasure,
Of finding alone right before them a hidden treasure,
Proudly in triumph, as many a voracious eye fail
How jocund is Spring if thou art missing?
The nightingales' songs are sweetly sung,
Yet, unwarranted, disrupt my musing
On which thine apparition is up hung.
Farewell, my friend, the time for us to part
Hath come, as festive banquets have to quit,
By enduring Time, and our wavering heart,
In which our capricious lives have to meet.
One day at work I gazed outside,
Across the glass sev'n-storey high.
I saw those same piles, tall and wide,
Taking vast space right off the sky.
At a dark hour the news is broken:
Grandma has passed away last night.
The hour has passed, and no more is spoken,
For no word nor action can make it right.
It was upon a torpid summer night
When I was feeling so low and lonely,
As if my strength and courage were mortally defeated,
My hope and faith had melted away, and only
The sun, flushed with toil, is slowly leaving his watch,
As tenderly the moon reveals her curve.
Has it been five days since I last saw you?
I do not readily recall,
O dear, how, my love, how can I stay strong
In this wild age, when soul to flesh conforms,
As madness reigns over where truth belongs?
To see tawdry shows become beauteous forms,
My love is like an eglantine in May,
Yet she’s so much sweeter and free of thorns;
Nor she only blooms at some place or day,
For she’s ever in my heart adorned.