The pot is here, longing.
It still preserves the aroma
of the delicate chrysanthemum.
The flowers have opened their petals for him.
He did drink the refreshing tea,
said a few witty words,
shared a few laughters
and back home he went.
Outside I can see the mountain's peak.
I am on top of the world, they'd say.
But on the floor I lay,
listening to this melancholic song
that keeps repeating itself again and forever.
Beautiful cherry trees - painting on the wall...
Beautiful cherry tree branch, full of flowers-
proudly you share your beauty to the guests!
You, beautiful ghosts, dressed up in blossoms,
you'll soon become but dull cherry trees.
He shares his laughter somewhere else,
but here is the remnant image
of the beloved one guarding me,
as the old wooden soldier guards the room,
silent, still for ages, in his corner.
Please, don't chase me away!
This is my little sad paradise.