This wind must have brushed by a stone-wall
The wind that would shake the ivy tendrils.
Mountain birds in the deep mountain valley
May rest awhile on the stone lantern moss-grown with age.
Ah!
In an old garden where the white water-lotus blooms
The moonlight alights all alone.
The wind has passed over a mountain ledge
The wind that would whisper to the bush clover gate in the front yard.
Though the former resident has departed,
Glad tidings may still arrive riding on the wind.
Ah!
In the old garden where the white water-lotus blooms
The moonlight alights all alone.