Pray for my daughter. The full text is as follows:

The storm roared again and Shimada Hanzo got up.

Under this cradle cover and cover.

My child sleeps in the bed. No obstacles

But Gregory's Woods and a bare hill

Haystacks and flat winds on the roof,

Those cultivated in the Atlantic Ocean can stay;

I have been walking and praying for an hour.

Because my heart is full of great melancholy.

I have been walking for an hour, praying for this child.

Hearing the sea breeze screaming on the tower,

Under the arch of the bridge, screaming

On the elm tree above the overflowing stream;

Imagine in an exciting fantasy

The coming years have come,

Dancing to the crazy drums,

Out of the innocence of the sea.

May she be given beauty, but she is not.

Beauty drives strangers' eyes crazy,

Or she's in front of the mirror, so,

Dressed up too beautifully,

Think beauty is a sufficient purpose,

Lose your natural kindness, maybe

An intimate relationship that confides in one's heart

Choose the right one and you will never find a friend.

Helen, who was chosen, found life monotonous.

Later, a lot of trouble came from a fool.

When the great queen rises from the waves,

Losing her father may be her way.

But he chose a bowlegged Smith as a man.

Good women will definitely eat it.

Crazy salad made from their meat

The horn of abundance collapsed.

Out of politeness, I want her to study mainly;

The heart is not obtained as a gift, but won.

Those who are not completely beautiful;

However, many people played the fool.

Because beauty itself, charm makes wisdom,

Many poor people wander around,

Loved and thought he was loved,

From a happy kindness can't take away his eyes.

May she become a lush hidden tree.

All her thoughts may be like cardinals,

There is no business except distribution.

Their loud voices,

Or start chasing in joy,

It's not just a happy argument.

May she live like a green laurel.

Rooted in a dear and permanent place.

My mind, because of the mind I loved,

The kind of beauty I recognize,

Prosperous but few, recently dried up,

Only to know that you are suffocated by hatred

Could be all evil opportunities, boss.

If there is no hatred in your heart

Wind attacks and beatings

Never tear the cardinals off the leaves.

Intellectual hatred is the worst,

So let her think that opinions are cursed.

Haven't I seen the cutest woman born?

From the mouth of the horn of abundance,

Because she is opinionated.

Exchange horns for all goods.

Quiet natural understanding

For an old bellows full of angry winds?

Considering all the hatred,

The soul is completely pure again.

It turns out to be self-pleasing,

Self-comfort, self-fear,

Its own sweet will is the will of heaven;

She can, although everyone should frown.

Every windy place is howling.

Or every bellows is broken and still happy.

May her groom take her to a house.

Everything is used to it, grand;

Because arrogance and hatred are commodities.

Selling in the street.

How, but in customs and rituals

Are innocence and beauty born?

Ritual is the name of the rich horn,

There is also a custom of laurel.