The moon had risen high in the sky.

The moonlight seems tinged with sorrow.

A silent April in the heart of an exile,

Longing for the homeland, she left long ago.

Thought that Time will fade away the memories.

Tonight, hearing the wind blowing a nostalgic melody. 

“O Where to return? To where, this heart of mine?”

Gazing at the moon on the mountaintop, 

her mind’s somewhere faraway…

Silent homeland yearnings … this snowing night.

Snow falling, and falling … covering everything in white. 

A poem for Black April, she sent to the wind.

Is the moon feeling sad to become so dim. 

Her heart feels like the cold white snow falling…

O Motherland! So far away!

A source of unending sorrow, surrounded with misty fog…

Whose music’s playing a song of exile.

She sends it back to the ancient times…

with feelings  of a haggard autumn. 

O Where to? Where to for this weary soul in a desolate town.

Again, she lets the verses float with the wind!

By the shore of this transient human realm. 

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