While my hair was still short in strands,

I passed by your front yard playing horse,

You were on beautiful flippers, pulling flowers with your eyes sparkling,

You walked about my side, playing with beautiful flutes,

The village of Chokan was where we lived,

And we made a clay castle, over the horizon.

At eighteen, I married you, four years younger.

I smiled, being puzzled.

Raising my hand, I looked outside the window.

Called to, a thousand times, but you hid away.

At nineteen, I stopped being boyish,

I desired the love to be mingled with yours

That would last forever and forever and forever.

I loved you dearly from my heart.

At twenty I left,

I went into Ku-to-en, by the river of swirling monstrous water,

And I had gone five months, my sweetheart,

The flutes made joyful tunes in the air.

I am tired, my darling, for almost a fortnight,

I left you, I didn't want to tell you why.

The petals fall from the roses, dying as they tumble,

And I too, am vanishing quickly with the wisp of the approaching cherry blossom wind.

I may not be able to come down to the Yangtze River,

Not now, maybe later.

Please know my soul is always with you, my love, my love.