The air is cool, the breeze clear on every springtime night,
Cherry blossoms sway, beckoning with branches in sight.
The desolate park, at silent midnight, moon faintly glow,
Empty chairs at the stalls, forlonely waiting in a row.
(Apr.2nd,2024, Kinsley Lee)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem