The silence of 1,000 years
is quietly piling, like old times
in the deep part of the mountain.
A wild flower is standing by itself,
lonely, waiting for a lover.

The passing wind trembles its heart
and shakes its hands.
A lonely wild flower
releases the scent of a yearning
heart.

With the morning sunshine,
you’re wearing clothes with
stripes of many colors,
and blushing like a goddess
of innocence.

You contain heartrending stories
in the oil painting of the
blue mountains near you.
O! you sad wild flower,
waiting for your lover again
today.