Classic Poem

Evening is coming. My song resounds ever more clearly. I am not yet wearied of long roads. I still love the soft grass by the roadside, that consoled my heart in days of yore. I like the western sky, bathed in red blood. I love the echo of my footfalls in the hills. My chaste song laments not, nor does it utter curses, but its voice resounds lovely in the evening field .
The evening glows ever more red. It gets cooler. I still love the beautiful, dear earth. I love the dew of the steppe and the open wind. I have spun from them my sorrow's gold. But with every day my heart grows heavier. I become wealthier from day to day. I bear the burden of sorrow and the burden of happiness. Yet my eye still remains eternally athirst .