Painting the cheeks red,
painting the forehead red,

a spot of clouds stepped
onto the road of dreams last night,
and is on its way to its lover.

It climbs the western mountain,
feet blistered,
and the red floral sunset
drenches its cloak.

Painting the cheeks red,
painting the forehead red,

my lady grew up with
a yearning heart, and washes
her tears of compassion on her
coat strings.

Every night,
shyness heats up the heart,
like a red floral sunset.