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Outside the curtain, rain patters on. Spring is nearly gone.
A quilt of silk cannot withstand the fifth watch's chill.
In dreams, I know not that I am a guest here.
For a brief while, I indulge in pleasure.
Alone, do not lean on the railing.
Endless rivers and mountains.
Parting is easy, meeting again is hard.
Flowing water and falling blossoms, spring has passed,
Between heaven and earth.
When will spring flowers and autumn moon come to an end?
How much of the past do I remember?
Last night, the east wind returned to my little tower.
I cannot bear to look back toward my homeland beneath the moonlight.
The carved balustrades and jade steps should still be there,
Only the rosy faces have changed.
Ask how much sorrow I can bear,
Like a river of spring water flowing east.
