Butterflies Lingering over Flowers
Deep, deep the courtyard where he is, so deep
It's veiled by smokelike willows heap on heap,
By curtain on curtain and screen on screen.
Leaving his saddle and bridle, there he has been
Merrymaking. From my tower his trace can't be seen.
The third moon now, the wind and rain are raging late;
At dusk I bar the gate,
But I can't bar in spring.
My tearful eyes ask flowers, but they fail to bring
An answer; I see red blossoms fly o'er the swing.
A moment of spring night is worth its length of gold,
When flowers spread on moonlight and shade fragrance cold
The slender flute from the bower plays music slender;
The tender night on garden swing casts shadow tender.
Butterflies in Love with Flowers
I lean alone on balcony in light,light breeze;
As far as the eyes see,
On the horizon dark parting grief grows unseen.
In fading sunlight rises smoke over grass green.
Who understands why mutely on the rails I lean?
I'd drown in wine my parting grief:
Chanting before the cup, strained mirth brings no relief.
I find my gown too large, but I will not regret;
It's worthwhile growing languid for my coquette.
Gathering Mulberry Leaves
Viewed from a light boat with short oars, West Lake is fair.
Green water winds along
The banks overgrown with sweet grass; here and there
Faintly we hear a flute song.
The water surface is smooth like glass when no wind blows;
I feel the boat moves no more.
Leaving ripples behind, it goes,
The startled waterbirds skim the flat sandy shore.
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