Thinking of His Country’s Woes

Yi-I.

Three moons have faded since I told my soul

This sorrow cannot see another moon.

But spring came and the withered grass was green,

Came yellow violets and a later moon.

The great rains fell. The mountain torrents roared.

Then, in the hush that follows after rain,

Green frogs sang shrilly in my garden well.

But, still, tears fall.