English Rendering
I find myself full of hate
for this vermilion lute
when I know perfectly well
how much I ought to love it
remembering clouds and rain—
our passionate affair
I shouldn't be stirring up
those lost perfumes
gifted disciples—
brilliant plums and peaches
nothing should hurt the career
of such an eminent scholar
dark green pines
vast and hazy laurels
admiration coming in
from people all over the world
the moonlight colors the moss
on the clear steps of the terrace
sound of a voice that's singing
deep in a bamboo courtyard
red leaves all over the ground
and heaped against the door
not to be cleared away
until he comes to visit.
