Just when the divine capital is beset with troubles,
Once more I come to the southern lands to tread the fragrant ferns.
Green pines rage straight toward the gray heavens,
Fallen leaves scatter in profusion, racing with the emerald waters.
A sudden storm of wind and thunder startles the world,
Red and green banners fill the streets, marching like a traveling host.
Leaning on the balustrade, I quietly listen to the pattering rain,
The people of the homeland have thoughts in their minds.