So full am I of anxious thought,
Though all the morn king-grass I've sought,
To fill my arms I fail.
Like wisp all-tangled is my hair!
To wash it let me home repair.
My lord soon may I hail!
Though 'mong the indigo I've wrought
The morning long; through anxious thought
My skirt's filled but in part.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem