Drops are falling down
Without a sound
On the shadowy ground,
Filling the pond of sorrow...
Only hopes for tomorrow,
That southern wind
Will bring us the Spring
With flowers bright -
The delight for the eyes.
And October turns into May,
And white soaring crane
Shall drive cold haze away.
Then trees will bloom again,
And birds will sing to them
Dream melodies and then,
Huge amber moon
Will crown the night
With magical light.
We are born for sorrow and pain
To become a dancing flame,
And exalt high,
Higher than clouds in azure sky.
