The moon is setting in the west, the flowers are closed and I am ashamed of the moon. I feel sad for Wanyan. I am alone in admiring my tears and washing my face, but I don't know whether Yue Ming is okay.
The waning moon is like a hook, the wind is rustling in the autumn, and my heart is as pure as water. I sit alone at the west end and admire the lonely pavilion. I only know that the rain is ringing softly.