When the Sun is Setting

The golden ball is rolling in the west,

Slowly bend over to cloudy point;

The rest of the day is a joke,

Went to drift from there to the east.

Darkness burns in low light

Master hears the twilight;

The waves will weep when they go ashore,

While in the air the wind blows.

The acacia in the tomb is covered with leaves

And the beast that went astray in the pasture went forth;

Remember to kneel down to the village visitor,

As the dick in the dome floats.

Or sad scene drawn by destiny…

O how good a memory is won by a mystery;

To Bathala's artistic imagination ...

Illustrate the mirage of the Poet's world!