The sun can rise again, the moon bitterly sleeps.
Nor friend nor foe tonight, the day merrily calls.
The trees, the grass, the lakes, their lip tenderly keeps
The moonlight kiss, when night in dreams carefully falls.
The stars still dance all dreams with grace in their light twist.
In trees, the wind may swing the true changeable greens
To shake and wake the flower buds' murmuring mist,
When love as sense of self for him turpitude means.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem