A small cedar boat floats on the river.
Grief gnaws at me in sleepless shiver.
It is not because I have no wine,
Nor want the needs for play.
My heart is not a copper mirror, to
reflect all that's shone.
I have brothers, but they don't support me.
I've tried to explain to them,
But nothing abates their ire.
My heart is not a stone which can be turned.
My heart is not a straw mat which can be folded.
I have my dignity, my standards.
I cannot bow to the wicked.
I am hated by evil people.
I suffer this plight alone.
I have tried to remain calm and think.
Still, I strike my chest in anger.
O Sun! O Moon! Why are you so blind?
My heart, with sorrow stained,
Cannot be cleaned like dirty clothes.
I have tried to remain calm and think –
I wish I could fly away.