Black tree shadows silently sweep across the beams.
When I turn around, I glimpse the sunlight of being reborn.
A beauty's long hair trails to the floor as her pale hands slowly turn the incense burner.
Her vermilion lips part, yet what she tells is the sorrow of separation destined for me.
I have already forgotten the past I can never reach.
Who is it in my dreams, calling me to don my rainbow robes, sometimes near, sometimes far?
The stars in the western sky, or a phoenix whose bones have lain for a thousand years?
When the cherry blossoms have all fallen, no devouring flames remain in sight.
Willow fluff scatters, the crescent moon turns to jade, and the wild geese fly south.
People grow haggard, fallen blossoms drift like snow, rouge mingles with tears.
The parasol tree falls into the underworld, like water; the flowers on the far shore cast their spell.
Clouds swallow the sky, the song ends without a word, and the broken strings intoxicate.
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