Tears utmost gauze cloth dream not succeed
Night deep before palace press song sound
Red cheek not old favour first cut
Slant lean on smoke cover sit arrive brightness
Her handkerchief all soaked in tears, she cannot dream,
In deepest night before the palace voices sing.
Her rosy cheeks aren't old, but first love has been cut,
Leaning, wreathed in smoke, she sits until the dawn.
I have a feeling that a better translation would have released the beauty and tenderness in these lines. Even badly translated, I can feel the author's gentle care for what he is writing about.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
In deepest night before the palace voices sing. Her rosy cheeks aren't old, but first love has been cut, Leaning, wreathed in smoke, she sits until the dawn. A very fine poem. tony