My lord has departed
And the time has grown long.
Shall I search the mountains,
Going forth to meet you,
Or wait for you here?

No? I would not live,
longing for you.
On the mountain crag, rather,
Rock-root as my pillow,
Dead would I lie.

Yet even if it be so
I shall wait for my lord
Till on my black hair -
Trailing fine in the breeze -
The dawn's frost shall fall.

In the autumn field,
Over the rice-ears,
The morning mist trails,
Vanishing somewhere…
Can my love fade too?