Rein

That I need more nothing
Would thou accept my offerings,
Hurriedly found the sun is setting
Strived I to fly the kite to the high,
Should the sun set,
In a nightly sky
Will how the kite fly.

Looms thy promises blighting
The piteous seems it is ending
In fret my mind is crying
The bastle that betides in grumbling.
All that is cinder into turning
With tinder my mind is burning.

Is drooped in the yon elegy
my mind In forlorn feeling,
Still it holds the rein of fortitude
In clenching.
How long will thou let me waiting.