He stands  before a nameless hill
Wearing  glasses, looking still.
Visions outpouring like falling meteors, 
Coming and going as affairs loving brief tenure.
Viewless charms linger, with  hands in hands
Entreat his soul grieving dancing around.
Heart  spreads  like  open page, 
Writing  too much with stoical gaze.
Temple bells  fly around with winged holy verses, 
Cutting  deep the fancies weeds and grasses.
Night removes  his pairing glasses
And house returns, meeting unknown faces.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    