To the Tune “Water clock”
Long willow branches, light spring rains,
Beyond the flowers, the distant sound of water clock drops.
The geese at the frontier startled up,
And the crows in the city fly off.
On the painted screen, there are golden partridges.
The thin fragrant fog permeates trough the layered curtains.
Sad is she in the noble mansions.
Behind the red candles hanging the embroidered portières,
“Long are my dreams, only that you can never know.”