A P'i-pa Tune in an Alley at Midnight

Again waking me up from a dream, a tune of p'i-pa in the
          still of the night!
     Whose sorrowful thought,
     And whose fingers,
Like a gust of chilly wind, a spell of depressing rain, and a
          shower of falling petals,
     So late at night.
     In so drowsy a world,
Are strumming of taut chords to send forth these
          disturbing notes
     To blend into the night in the deserted street,
     While a waning moon hangs on top of the willow tree?
An, the silver of a moon, a shattered hope, and he, he ...
     Wearing a tattered cap,
     With clanking chains on his back,
Laughs and dances on the path of time like a mad soul
     That's all, he says, blow out our lamp,
     She is waiting for you beyond her grave,
Waiting for you to kiss her, to kiss her again, and again