Blood-Red Snow

One night, the plum blossoms fall like red snow; a traveler loses his way amid the sandy wastes.

A peach-blossom horse, a pomegranate-red skirt; deep in the night, one lamp glows by the fence.

The affairs of a thousand years have sunk into silence; a lifetime of a hundred years is like a dream of butterflies.

These stars are not those of last night; the sun sets over the wasteland in the west wind.

Autumn fields lie vast beneath the golden autumn sun; a tender heart is troubled by cold indifference.

Who understands the thoughts of one leaning silently on the railing? Even now, I resent your faithlessness.

Right and wrong, success and failure all vanish in an instant; they say the sky is clear, yet rain still falls.

A thousand leaves and a thousand rustlings, all full of sorrow; the west wind sweeps sand across the boundless sea.

The wind and sand beyond the frontier are still bitterly cold; one sword chills fourteen provinces with frost.

The body yearns to take flight, yet illness confines it to bed; we watch as blades flash and blood flies.

I know you dare not meet me in close combat; do you know how deeply I yearn for you?

Do not say women cannot be heroes; a single gesture can sway the storm and startle ghosts and gods.

A peerless beauty gives her all for her beloved.