Than longing, and do not know help;
Looking for a cool fresh chest,
The windows wide open, I can’t fall asleep
And in the garden over the creek all night
The nightingale spills, whistles.
Slim poplar stands under the window
The leaves in the air were all numb.
Similarly, the thoughts are the same in him,
He’s definitely judging me with the singer, —
He will not utter a sigh or a trill.
Loud nightiAt dawn, only sleepy
But only a bright scarlet I note —
I’ll flare up — and again I won’t fall asleep.
Know last meet spring
And I won’t meet you on earth.
Read poems 