22

The Regret of Youth

In the wind of the autumn days, 

I ride the horse, with my soul lost in the afterglows. 

Listening to the catchy melodies, 

With the breeze blowing up my sleeves, 

I heard the sound a roc, 

Which sings in the loneliness. 

How much I envy the magpies,

Who return in pair from the branches. 

On my palm reflects the shadows, 

And the moon is much colder than the branches. 

The palace up in the moon, 

Casts the lights that make me get drunk very soon. 

Worn in the beautiful silk pants, 

I take up the cup and drink constantly with my shadows.