English
Number 8
Prayers at dawn have their effect;
so my hand clings to the hem of every daybreak.
Every night, hoping for the meeting you promised,
my eyes spread themselves like a carpet along your path.
Those who should know gave me no sign of you,
so I asked the clueless for news instead.
My heart aches, a thousand regrets,
that it fell into the trap of that lovely slender waist.
Even though you are a doctor who deals in bitterness,
your reed pen still pours out sweetness.