Dreams of Past Lives, Like Water; The Transience of Beauty
Chain of love, autumn wind breaks, who understands the bitter frost, unaware of the falling blossoms for whom, remnants of ink for whose vows.
Hold steadfast, cross the mottled past, how many sorrows of joy and sorrow, a song of kindred spirits seeking harmony, who pities this fickle love?
Countless times, lamenting sorrowful souls, strings break, wind hears, tears fall, after years only gaining the taste of wine, with whom shall one measure a cup?
Walking among flowers, saying no regrets, memories painted with azure, flowing tassels silent as water, pushing back ink, with whom shall one share a double glance?
Small window eastward, moonlit smoke, springtime spent in poetry, how much sweet affection warms the heart, with whom shall one accompany the mortal realm?
Constantly crafting words, boundless rhymes, chasing willow dreams in emerald green, gathering friends to drink at the Lan Ting pavilion, with whom shall one listen to the music of the strings?
After spring rain, a purified heart, a blushing path, subtle fragrance permeating the air, with whom shall one wander through a fairyland?
Ink brush flowing, portraying exquisite scenery, who inspires yearning, deep loneliness locks two furrowed brows, who harbors a silent nostalgia?
Broken fates, who pities us, leaning on the railing, gazing at the wind, seeking the fragrance of flowers falling at our fingertips, who can fulfill a wish?
Plucking a lonely string, reciting the passage of time, painting with ink a lotus blossom, a subtle hint, gracefully expressing sentiments, for whom shall one indulge in the scent of smoke?
Kiss of wine, elegant rhymes, memories of drifting and unrestrained, who listens to the quiet tapping of windows, composing melodies of sorrow?
Long cold nights, flavor deeply concealed, three o'clock in the morning ink, tender affection follows the rhythm of poetry, with whom shall one savor together?
Falling leaves, shielding the gaze, slender sorrow chasing the flowing water, passionate ink dyeing sadness on the heart, for whom shall one leave a trace of poetry?
Wind brushes the willows, shadowy figures, raindrops listen to autumn, fragrance fills the tower, who paints the word 'love'?
Love polished, ink dipped in moonlight, unaware of who wrote it, fleeting dreams scattered like dust across the years, who understands this legend?
Clouds and butterflies flutter, fragrant companions, ink adorns the scent of the writing desk, the spirit of the moon witnesses endless yearning, who understands a soft sigh?
Floral language entwined, reciting this verse, painting with exquisite paper, the music of the zither conveys gentle lament, with whom shall one softly whisper?
Tears of beautiful women, for whom does it belong, fragments of blossoming shadows, dreams of ancient and modern times like water, who indulges in the taste of wine?
Filling the cup, who shares the company, reciting the words of love returning, who greets the clear light at the ferry, tasting the flavor of longing?
A true brushstroke, with whom do you confide, singing the peach blossom dreams, who listens with fingertips to the burgeoning greenery, the fireworks for whom are they most intense?
Playing the zither, thinking of Qingming Festival, awakening the scent of the fan's bottom wind, longing painted with tenderness, with whom shall one patiently await the passage of time?
Lost gaze, dyed with frost, chasing after past loves, picking the fragrance of jasmine, with whom shall one tell of the vicissitudes of life?
Deep love concealed, dreams unended, drinking to the end of a solitary cup, passionate singing and the moon, painting on the face, who kisses off the makeup?
Translation: The poems are full of longing, and the writing is rich, with beautiful words and imagery.
