I look at the bright moon,
As if that's all I need to see,
The heaven looks so far,
I bow my head and close my eyes,
Tears roll down as I pray,
The God who made this moon,
Surely, my poor soul, He sees,
Even if I may have gone so far,
I trust He will someday open my eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem