Classic Poem

You left at morning, my heart at evening in pieces —
how far away!
Thinking of you I go to the hillside and wander.
The hillside — why is it so saddening?
Yellow of dandelion with shepherd's purse blooming white,
there's no one to look at it.
Is that a pheasant? I hear it call over and over;
I had a friend, he lived with a river between us.
Smoke that transforms you abruptly scatters, the wind from the west blowing
so hard on the fields of low bamboo and sedge
there's no place to escape.
I had a friend, he lived with a river between us. Today
there's no cooing call.
You left at morning, my heart at evening in pieces —
how far away!
Light before my hut's Amida image not lit,
flowers not offered, disheartened I stand here — tonight
you are more than ever venerable.