I live upstream; she lives downstream.
We are far apart by the count of our footsteps,
But are close within a curtain
By the distance between our hearts.
The distance will soon grow to the length of a river,
For she has chosen the preferred path
Leaving behind a crushed soul and forlorn heart.
Who asked to pick bitter grapes?
Who painted white roses crimson-red?
Oh unscrupulous Fate! Why thou hast to be so cruel
And make her choose between worldly happiness and love?
I looked to the other side of the river; she looked from the other side.
Our passive eyes briefly met, but we were soon on our ways.