To you, my rival, I will come sometime
At night when moon is standing overhead
When frogs are wailing loudly on the pond
And women are from pity going mad.
And, marveling at beating of the eyelids
And on your jealous eyelashes, it seems,
I’ll tell you that I’m not a human being
But just a vision which you only dream.
And I will say: “Console me, console,
Someone is beating nails into my heart!”
And I will say to you that wind is fresh
And that the stars over our heads are hot.