Fade is the murmurs glory of Spring,
Weather is now rough,
The warmth of thousand hearts now wane to ring,
And empty is heart’s cup.
Friends who were with effused emotion
Now forget to string their lyre,
The hearts that once throbbed with feeling,
Now have lost their celestial fire.
I wish to fan the ash-covered hearth,
So as to restore the fresh morning breeze,
The wounds of friendship that suffers satiety,
May its stagnancy un-fridge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem