English
Number 5
When that silver-bodied cypress appears at the edge of the meadow,
the pheasants' uproar rises like the chaos of judgment day.
In this garden, this is what scars me: for the young birds just learning flight,
the season of captivity comes the moment their wings and feathers appear.
I don't know the profit and loss of love's marketplace,
but I do know that the goods called loyalty are rarely found here.
What is this talk, as if the nightingale could do the moth's work?
Where will you ever find another lover like me?
No wonder if the doctor laughs at my weeping,
for the joy of the drunk is born from the spilling of the cup.