Oh, I am very tearful,
Although the heart cries and dines
On her like the bell, and tongs
Become sick of heat on the hearth.
My fits are compelling,
My living is easier when I die
And her success is stronger
Than mine.
Oh, I am very longing
For the hurt spectacles
That come from heavy breath
So that sight begets them.
The belongings of people
Are loving to their masters,
Strong treachery has taken effect
When the heart laments and stays.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem