Songs of deception
Somber clouds glide above, and the nightingale sings:
O is there a comrade who understands our hymns?
And untangles the knots of remorse with thought at least
Ny, no bird flies along, nor sings along, nor thinks along!
Give a thought to engulf within, not tread the path of disgrace
Why are thoughts not concrete when the image is clear indeed?
Why do the birds not sing when the nightingale awaits his speech?
Why do the clouds not shine when the sun resides behind?
What a cruel world you face my dear, pity O sorrowful bird!
When the waves rise above the tides, then know my dear,
The moon has lost its charm and sheds its light in tears!
The selfish sun now radiates charm without least shame!
Bearing regret, is what there is for our sorrowful nightingale,
He knows that life is held by the unforgiving hand of destiny
He awakens from the illusion of intoxicating sleep
the dark clouds rightfully descend; their sorrow is wet
The world knows why the clouds were somber and the moon dull
And why does the Nightingale Sing alone, penetrated by deceit?