Because I cannot sleep
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one
Whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
Neither a good reputation nor disgrace.
A thousand robes of wisdom
All my good manners have moved
A thousand miles away.
The heart and the mind are left angry
With each other.
The stars and the moon are envious
Of each other.
Because of this alienation
The physical universe is getting tighter and tighter.
The moon now says:
‘How long will I remain suspended without a sun?’