Whenever I recall, breezy and drizzle it is still,
An oar squeaks near and fade,
As if someone a loom operate,
Having made a river numerous pleated with skill.
You are expecting in a mood, with the willows’ carrying:
From the ford start to the shore end,
From islet shallow to water thick,
To run after me, uttering your tenderest hellos a string.
Awhile on a disparting boat I am flying to rip the river quick,
Gathering together all my nerve,
Towards you dreary and bewildered,
To greet you for a long long time over the water bank.
Never doubt whether the love stays here with thee,
Just look at the rain like gauze,
And as well the mist like haze,
And the willow shade fading behind the twilight to see.
"Go home, I’ll go home, next year I will ",
Besides a little boat there strays,
And a shout that is resounding ,
A flock of cuckoos are flying by the fresh hill.
