A Springtime Ballad of Jing
Flowers line the path before Vermilion Bird Street,
Laughter rings through the Spring Drunkard’s Hall.
Golden hairpins sway, casting peach-blossom shadows,
A spoonful of creamy sweetness,
And springtime gathers, lingering in the air.
The wind carries hoofbeats toward a distant post station,
Who says a cold heart cannot be wounded?
Pick a peony and tuck it into your cloud-coiled hair,
Ask not what the future holds,
First, enjoy this clear and lovely day.
