Thousand eagles dot the twilight mountain sky,
All alone I lay on moss to die.
Against a stone,in pairs, my tears shed
Hour by hour hair grow gray on my hang head;
why against my watery eye, sighing winds, blow the night in?
Despondently under a thin quilt ,at midnight, I experience a grief keen.
Had I known our parting this way would devastate
I’d have strove to reverse our sorry fate.