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