It is the middle of the night — I cannot sleep,
I sit up to pluck my dulcet lute;
Through thin curtains, I view the bright moon,
A soothing breeze blows at my lapels.

A lone goose cries in the wild beyond,
A soaring bird sings in the woods to the north;
Pacing to and fro, I wonder what my future will bring —
Anxious and alone, my poor heart is broken.