You love me, but don't be sad,
As your love the songs of mine
And you if sad and lonely,
Heartbroken and forlorn,
My confidence I shall lose it.
It is your love which has but turned into a lover
And an unknown singer of love,
Ay, the singer of heart,
So, if you in the sighs and sobs,
The eye-lashes splashed with tears,
My brush fall from the hands
And shall I fail in making a sweet portrait of yours
As and whenever move I, the wet eyelashes will discourage me,
Calling me from behind,
Obstructing the way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem