Melancholy, by Muse Gong
At the dusk of sorrow,
a lonely wind sweeps the barren vines.
The crows\' lamenting sound,
stirs up the gloom in minds.
Gazing at the darkened sky,
my heart is filled with doubt.
Where does the human soul go,
in the endless sky throughout?
Recalling the days gone by,
where did the lost ones roam?
What is the destiny of each one
in the vastness of time and zone?
Melancholy, the timeless motif of literature,
without the taste of love.
There is no hue of bliss,
only everlasting grief.
Nostalgia,
sadness of farewell.
Unrequited love and grudge,
the gloom of unfulfilled.
Lifting your cup and asking the sky.
How to ease the pain?
In the sourness of this drink,
the melancholy grows more intense.
The moon is lovely and alluring.
Migrate to the moon?
How is the solitude on the moon?
It is both alike and unlike that on Earth.
The night breeze was still blowing,
and I snapped back to the present.
Hearing the insects\' chatter added more loneliness.
I know the dawn is not far away.