After you came back to my home,
You never complained that we were poor.
Up till midnight every night,
We had our breakfast after noon.
Nine or ten days eating pickles,
Then one day we'd have dried meat.
East and west for eighteen years,
Together we shared both bitter and sweet.
Expecting a hundred years of love,
How could I know you'd go one evening?
I still remember that last hour,
You held me, but you could not speak.
Although this body yet survives,
Finally we'll be dust together.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem