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Forlorn Path
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Unlike the Passing Birds
On nights when rain falls with the blowing wind
I have no choice, but to endure the cold
I boast, 'Where is to be found a better man?'
But still, in the end, I remain cold
On the bare ground we lie on loose straw
A destitute family in pain
On whom stars don't cast their radiance
In times like these, how do we keep on?
Haze through the window, past the rain,
He lays a wretched comal shell
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Far removed, his mind cast off
Toil beneath the external calm
Suffering, caught in portraits
Unlike the passing birds, who fly off
Haze through the window, past the rain,
He lays a wretched comal shell
Far removed, his mind cast off
Toil beneath the external calm
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