What thou wandering in the flowers hast never known.
Youth was dying in the pale moan.
I opened my eyes no longer bright.
Frost wind, no tears, butterflies waving its wings broken.
Adieu!Adieu!The promises at the starry night!
In the green valley and stream, dreams had been forgotten!
When January haze blights thy sunshine dimple.
As ever, wind chimes in Indian summer lonely jingle.