With Tearful Eyes, I Ask the Flowers, but They Do Not Answer

How deep, how deep, how deep the courtyard lies,

Where willows pile like mist beneath the skies.

Curtains upon curtains veil the place from sight;

Carved saddles, jeweled reins pass by in revelry,

Yet from the tower, Zhangtai Road is lost to me.

Rain lashes, wind rages, spring's last days draw near;

The gate shuts at dusk, but spring will not stay here.

With tearful eyes I ask the flowers, but they are mute;

Red petals scatter past the swings, borne far from view.