The curtain cannot keep out the patter of rain,
Springtime is on the wane.
In the deep of the night my quilt is not cold-proof.
Forgetting I am under hospitable roof,
Still in my dream I seek for pleasures vain.
Don't lean alone on the railings and
Yearn for the boundless land!
To bid farewell is easier to leave it than to meet again.
With flowers fallen on the waves spring's gone amain.
So is the paradise of men.