Yearning is the heart, and the eyes seek love.
Fine as a floating thread, vast as the sea.
But the moon’s not always full and the flowers are soon faded.
I have such sorrows in my life, and mostly for her.
Lingering, yielding, again abiding;
Slim like gossamer, tender like wavelets.
The moon waxes to wane, flowers bloom to fall;
For her, all my sentimental feelings.