The lotus blossoms have faded, and autumn chills the jade mat. I slip off my gauze robe and board the little boat alone. Who in the clouds will send me a letter? The wild geese return in formation, and moonlight fills the western chamber.
The flowers drift away of their own accord, and the water flows on by itself. One longing, two places of sorrow. There is no way to banish this feeling: it leaves my brow, only to rise again in my heart.
Np support! Come on