Although I come to you constantly
over the roads of dreams,
those nights of love
are not worth one waking touch of you.
The flowers and my love
Passed away under the rain,
While I idly looked upon them
Where is my yester-love?
This night of no moon
There is no way to meet him.
I rise in longing—
My breast pounds, a leaping flame,
My heart is consumed in fire.