Ever since you went away
The face by the window has not lit up.
The clothes-pounder and block are mute at night;
The tall gates are closed during the day.
Into my bed curtains fireflies glide;
In front of the courtyard purple orchids bloom.
As nature withers, I know the season’s changing;
When wild geese arrive, I know the traveler is cold.
Your journey will end at winter’s close;
I’ll await your return at the start of spring.