Grand shone the Milky Way on high,
With brilliant span athwart the sky,
Nor promise gave of rain.
King Seuen long gazed; then from him broke,
In anguished tones the words he spoke.
Well might he thus complain!
'O Heaven, what crimes have we to own,
That death and ruin still come down?
Relentless famine fills our graves.
Pity the king who humbly craves!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem