From the Himalayan peaks,
A tedious firefly came wandering
Looking for someone in the village,
On glimpsing her,
She sat on her cheek
And whispered in her ears:

The journey of miles is over
Across the peaks,
The moon that used to sink
Is now under my feet.

Shall I stop writing you letters?
If you don't want to respond.
My time has come, O' dear!
Just when you feel—
This old man will die now,
Prepare to cheer!
For what you desired all your life
Is finally going to happen,
In his court, you will be a sinner
But in this lovely hour of sins,
Cheer for love loses
And the fear of a wife wins.

To light a lantern all I need:
A matchstick and a matchbox
And a will to light the lantern.
Scents from the bowers
Come wandering around me,
Flowers seem sad to reach me
They were happy on the tree,
The scents are beautiful
But it didn't come alone,
Winds came with it
And the lantern is blown;
It is the beginning, death is no end
No market sells such good wills
Where should I go, my friend?

To thy beloveds say goodbye,
To behold the glorious moon
Grow old soon and die.

Though this corpse shall disappear
The soul shall live forever,
Everything else will fade away
And the seeds of spirituality shall never,
From a few yards away,
I shall behold the glorious moon,
Monks and priests farewelling me
So that they can grow old soon.

I am becoming an envious man,
Day by day, I am losing hope
No wages, No job I need
Blessings are all I carve for
A sparrow flying:
Through the autumn mountains
Wants to reach me, reached never.
The weight in my boots is doubled
And this beautiful life is troubled,
My time has never come
But somewhere in my heart, I know:
This time, too, shall pass.

Since the day I was born
I am dying minute by minute,
To me no grief is unknown,
Ghosts and spirits talk to me
Everyday when I brood alone,
I wish if I shall die:
Shall die in the arms of moonlight
Friends and family encircling me,
A beautiful smile on face
And my eyes locked at thee,
Scent of fresh roses in the air,
Good and bad deeds recall
The traces of love everywhere,
Between my lips lives his name
In the lovely old prayer.

Beneath the newly sprouted lotus
A frog is swimming,
In daylight, he didn't come out
For there's an army of frogs around it,
For he's shy,
For he thinks that the lotus will not like him,
But when the crickets cry
And the milkmoon shows up
The frog comes over nigh the lotus
And whispers his secrets to it.