English Rendering
In the town, the warble of orioles mingles among its glorious scenery and sights,
In the moat of the town, against the enclosing walls crush waves of springtime.
For how long last the green of willows and the fragrance of grass?
My eyes are growing teary, yet already rent are my melancholic insides.
So I have noticed that increasingly becoming aged is my frame of mind,
Like an astonished mute phoenix, surprised I was, at the passing of my prime.
In the past, my sickly physique had me libation detest,
Now I only dread holding a chalice that is dry.
