Why?
Has the moon lost its lustre?
Just now, some hovering clouds.
Girl come home.
Do not any longer linger to admire the moon.
Come home before the sun.
Before the wolfs.
Admire the moon.
With a pure heart.
A self of happiness.
At the balcony.
Admire also the setting sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem