Fated Across Three Lifetimes, Bound Together for Seven

A different kind of delicate fragrance, with no rich blossoms to force it open. It longs to drift away over the waves, yet stays for the spring breeze. So terribly sparse, how can it endure such an autumn? It still leaves behind a wisp of cold fragrance, the first rain over the Xiang River. One kind of beauty, her brows like moths' wings. The waning moon is not as lovely as the waxing one. Yuan Haowen is not yet old, so why does sorrow come so soon? Slanting light falls on the plain wall, bamboo shadows sweep across the window. The empty room is silent. Crows cry as dawn approaches, and once again I descend the western tower. (Early Morning View of Huanghua City) The cold light of the fifth watch shines upon snow piled level with the plank road. The west wind rages without end, and I rise to put on my clothes and look. Facing this vast expanse, I cannot help but sigh deeply. When will dawn come? The morning stars are about to fade, and wild geese rise from the sandy plain. The courtyard grows cool, and by evening my robe suddenly feels thin. I cannot bring myself to drink alone, so I sit in vain with my shadow for company. I pity you in the temple, your sorrow at parting must be bleak. The west wind is harsh. A bugle sounds in the sunset, and a shower of locust blossoms falls. A journey across three hundred years, just so I won't let you wait in vain.