English Rendering
The weather is such that a moment's warmth could suddenly a slight chill become,
Then comes evening before the wind and rain come to a stop.
Quiet and empty is the courtyard, drawing near is the vernal equinox,
Here I am drinking among remnants of blossoms,
With the same sentimental malaise from last year I am struck.
Sobering is the sound of bugles blaring from the watch tower carried by the wind,
Deep into the night locked behind gates and doors is stillness.
Unbearable is what the bright moon conveys
Through the wall, the shadow of a swing.
