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In the drizzle of spring, the delicate flowers and leaves
sway in the dense shade. Walking alone along the fragrant path in the small
garden, I am filled with countless emotions. In March, tears flow down my
pillow as I am unable to hold back my sadness.
The blooming flowers on paper are the only ones that can witness my sorrow.
Each season brings forth flowers and fragrances, but also heartbreak and
pain. I speak of youthfulness and recklessness, but in the end, I am lost in
the intoxicating winds. I long to ride the wind to the east, but the broken
bridge prevents me from returning. The west wind brings countless tears of
the lovesick, making it difficult to wait for a loved one.
Drinking alone while picking spring flowers, everyone admires the beauty of
spring, but I laugh at how everyone is lost in worldly matters. As dusk
approaches, few can understand the sadness I feel. Drinking and seeing
flowers bloom, I am surrounded by sadness. I am born in this world, why
sigh? I will eventually leave, why regret?
All night, the sound of wind and rain echoes in the small building. The
gentle wind carries the fine rain and dampens the ancient pavilion on the
path. The sorrowful song of a king's love for his consort fades away with
time. Looking at each other from afar, the red colors reflected on the river
surface remind me of a lost love. The falling flowers of spring are too
numerous to count, and their fragrances are carried away by the wind. Even
if there are remnants of flowers, a single stem may still tug at my
clothing, leaving me with a heart full of melancholy.
Looking across the river, the distant shadows of peach blossoms carry their
fragrance. Watching the clouds and listening to the water, who else is
wandering in the world of poetry, who else is grazing the desolate fields of
thought? On rice paper painted with ink, whose talented brush has captured
the beauty of a lady in red?
The clear winds of March awaken the sadness hidden in my brows, and it feels
like another year of springtime sorrow. Looking at the willow fluff flying
in the air like butterflies, they disappear in a flash, leaving behind green
leaves swaying in the wind. A strand of green willow, a slender willow
branch, even if it blossoms and fades, it will always be a wound.
Walking along the fragrant path in the small garden, the scent of peach
blossoms fills the air. Whose journey will this season's fragrance
accompany? Whose thin shadow will be illuminated by the moonlight? Through
countless winds and rains, the spring scenery fades away, and the wings of a
goose flap against the curtain wind, leaving me with a history of parting
and love. How can I write my own unrhymed poetry about my sorrowful past?
Before Zhu had achieved success, his mind was in chaos. Now, it is difficult
to find his old hat and robe, and who remembers the sail on the river? I am
lost in reality, like in a dream. I fish alone on a cold river, and who will
mourn for me that I am no longer young? The moonlight outside the Great Wall
shines on the cold lake, and the frost on the bamboo reflects on the white
paper, reminding me of the spring that was once full of life.
The fragrance is faint, and it floats in the air, like a dream. The song of
Luling Moon stirs up sadness that no one can share. As the western wind
blows, my thoughts wander through the night. Even though I was once reckless
in my youth, I have now put aside my heartless ways. I am devoted to the
mountains. |
