The month of March has fled and left
those Cherry Blossom trees
Where are the blooms of dainty pink,
the April rain has made them white,
so soon out of her sight
And like the hushing of the wind
and leaves just whispering;
even the silence of the moon
passing the clouds reluctantly,
she cries in secrecy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem