A Thornbush My mind is too full of myself that there is no place for you to rest. My mind is so full of false wishes that there are no place for you to be free. My helpless dark minds take away the place you shall rest My mind is like a sad tornbush that I can not win my sadness. That weak bundled branch cry together Whenever the wind blows The tired little birds looking for a place to rest cry away pocked by the needles, Whenever there were winds, it was so lonely, hard and I sang the sad songs many times My mind is too full of myself that there is no place for you to rest