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The radiant moon unknown
When will the bright moon show
its face?
I lift my cup and inquire its
place.
In the sky above, what palace I can't trace, what year is it in this quiet
space?
I want to fly away with the wind,
but fear the towers made of crystal and grace,
So high and cold, they'd leave me in a trance.
Dancing, chasing my fleeting
shadow's trace.
Not like being among people, turning to the crimson halls,
With low and fragrant homes aglow, shining with no sleep at all.
No hate should linger, what is the reason for its prolonged circular pace?
Life has joys and sorrows, fleeting like the moon's phases.
This truth has been so since
ancient days, but may we live long, with beauty in our gaze.
Together we'll admire the grace of the moon, from far away. |
