English Rendering
"Leisure" they say—yet leisure never stays,
Secret cares haunt my mind in countless ways.
I rise, cloak-draped, hearing snow's nightly song,
Watch moonlit flakes before the dawn's new throng.
Plum boughs seem lonelier in this frozen air,
My hair—like reed-thatch—bares solitude's despair.
Snowflakes know not the sorrows humans keep,
In wind they frolic, swirling in playful heap.