What good is her voice,
Her voice like the wind,
When I can not hear it?
What good are her lips,
Her lips red as a spring rose,
When I can not kiss them?
What good are her eyes,
Eyes like the midnight moon,
When I can not stare deeply in them?
What can I do when my love,
A blossoming sunrise,
Is nowhere near,
So far, so far is she that I dream, then awake in tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem