Outside the curtains the rain is pattering
As the season draws to its end.
My satin bed-cover cannot keep out
the chill at dawn.
In the dream, I forgot
that I was in exile,
And for a time there was joy.
Never lean against the balustrade in solitude.
O, my mountains and rivers -
It was so easy to part,
But the return proves to be so hard.
Spring, will you go with the falling petals
and drifting currents
To paradise? Let me remain a while.
