In the same way that rain sometimes eludes dense clouds, poetry sometimes eludes my mind, bursting with imagination, leaving me yearning for heavenly inspiration.
Although I saw you, it wasn't you who appeared, rather your essence, that lingered in the air like a mist smeared with fragrance of a withering flower.
Those present had left by the time others arrived. There was no time to wait for others to arrive. Nobody was eager to see others in flesh and blood. Everyone had focused their attention on their own lives.
Hey, wearing the garb of rich won't make you rich. Your thatched hearth still stands on the field defying strong winds as a symbol of your life's misfortune.