Silkworm grow old
Wheat half yellow
Around mountain rain unrestrained
Farmer person stop plough
Women discard basket
White clothes immortals on high hall
The silkworms grow old,
The wheat half yellow,
The rain falls unrestrained about the mountain.
The farmers cannot work the land,
Nor women gather mulberry,
The Immortals sit high in white robes in the hall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem