He stands before a nameless hill
Wearing glasses, looking still.
Visions outpouring like falling meteors,
Coming and going as affairs loving brief tenure.
Viewless charms linger, with hands in hands
Entreat his soul grieving dancing around.
Heart spreads like open page,
Writing too much with stoical gaze.
Temple bells fly around with winged holy verses,
Cutting deep the fancies weeds and grasses.
Night removes his pairing glasses
And house returns, meeting unknown faces.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem