Vernal songs are somewhat thirsty,
Thirst for love and soonest bloom.
They will come, but now, firstly,
What if love is sordid doom?
We remember, we all-living,
Fates of citizens of Earth.
Death can smell your finest feeling,
It is also prone to thirst.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem