I hear the cries of crows
Over the king's grave, in the early morning
And can hearing the musical sounds
Which are loaded on the forest winds, in late-evening.
Beneath the eaves, the stories
Of falling stars are never ceasing
And silently jujubes drop
In the backyard, welcoming the fall's arriving.
(27th, Sep.,2023, Kinsley Lee)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem