You left in the morning In the evening, my heart in a thousand shards
How far you have gone!

Thinking of you, I wander in the hills
Why are the hills so sad?

Among the yellow dandelions, shepherd's purse blooms white
But you are not here to see this.

Is the pheasant here? I hear its mournful voice:

“I had a friend. He lived on the other side of the stream.

Eerie smoke rose and scattered, a strong west wind
swept over the bamboo field, over the sedge moor,
leaving nowhere to hide.

I had a friend. He lived on the other side of the stream; today
There's no sound at all.”

You left in the morning. In the evening, my heart in a thousand shards
How far you have gone!
In my hut, I have no strength to offer a light to the Amida Buddha,
have given no flowers. In the twilight, lingering in sorrow,
a sense of awe.