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Why are the stars in the sky
As crowded as the people below
Why are the people on the earth
As distant as the stars above
All the waiting
Is just for the golden chrysanthemum
Blooming slowly in the cold night with a smile
Like the fallen leaves in the forest
Gently drifting down
That kind of greeting beautiful as the sound of water
Yet tinged with the wind's faint lament
It makes one glimpse the clear yellow moonlight
On a path clutched by ferns
And also
The firewood left behind by the evening woodcutter
Coldly condensed
Faded melancholy
All the waiting
Is just for the golden chrysanthemum
Blooming slowly in the cold night with a smile
Like the fallen leaves in the forest
Gently drifting down
That kind of greeting beautiful as the sound of water
Yet tinged with the wind's faint lament
It makes one glimpse the clear yellow moonlight
On a path clutched by ferns
And also
The firewood left behind by the evening woodcutter
Coldly condensed
Faded melancholy
Walking always with hair hanging low head bowed—
It cannot be feigned
The stream outside the forest
A few teardrops clinging tightly to the grass blades
Now dissolve in the wind
You ask me about the logic of duckweed
Ah—
Let it be then
Like the soft sigh of dew
Falling toward the earth
And the chrysanthemum—
Especially the golden chrysanthemum—endures waiting
After the cold winter comes spring
I'll spend my whole life waiting for your smile
I'll spend my whole life waiting for your smile
I'll spend my whole life waiting for your smile
