Too Heavy-Hearted To Thought It Was June Poem by Ruiyu Yuan

Night-time, a kettle pillowing,
Whose spirit gets no rid of the mouth,
Though steamy, liquefies quickly back.

Flying cotton fiber in the pillow,
Bustling throng in the feather dress.
One stuffless, chilling during the June solstice.

Kettle out of control,
Boiled water boiling still.
One's head raising, soul losing, chilling.

The pillow, branches of sakura, now coals.
Your tender flowers, my great snow:
Drifting.

Get-up, one passing water, facing broadwise,
Whose chilling yawn gets no rid of the mouth and...