| Walking on the riverbanks this spring, we hear people wailing among the camellia trees that stand in the heavy morning mist, and when we raise our eyes to the heavens we feel a mist of sadness clouding our hearts. |
跋提河の春の浪哀声再び聞え、沙羅林の朝の雲憂色重て聳え、眼を戴いて天を迎げば、則ち白霧胸に塞りて散せず。 |