Stop playing on the swing and get up to straighten your slender hands. The dew is thick, the flowers are thin, the sweat is thin and the clothes are light.
When the guests come in, the gold hairpin slips out of their socks. He walked away shyly, leaned against the door and looked back, sniffing the green plums.
——Li Qingzhao's "Red Lips·Lonely Purdah"
Lonely in the deep boudoir, every inch of my heart is full of sorrow. Cherish that spring is gone, what time will the flowers rain?
Leaning all over the countryside, there is just no emotion. Where are the people? ⑶ The grass is dying all over the sky, and it is impossible to see the way back.
——Li Qingzhao's "Dian Lips·Play on the Swing"