The fine weather is passing over our heads
As the day is finer than one soldier and one liar.
The lines of the page are a book,
As the book finds new meaning everyday.
This thunder-and-lightning happened overnight,
Due to old age and the lingering of the night.
My knights are out there in the hectic pleasure,
This is pleasing to the old art of repose,
For the generals play fine music when present.
One day we pass and splendidly pass,
For success mattered to the old children.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem