Song Unsong

                
                
The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.
The time has not come true,the words have not been rightly set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart. The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.
I have not seen his face ,nor have I listened to his voice; only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.
The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor; but the lamp has not lit and I cannot ask him into my house .
I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.