Several Degrees of Wind and Rain, Sorrowful Separation, and Flowers' Lament
Heart like the sea, love like flowers, a piece of unwavering devotion, whom did I ever misdirect? Red tears, whom should I blame?
Who is it, softly singing and playing at my ear? Who is it, vowing to mountains and seas.
The surging tide, my heart returned to that year, you and I, holding flowers, leaning against each other.
Walking along this secluded ancient path, but the years pass, like a dream bubble.
Like mist and like lightning, love enduring a lifetime, where there's love, every place is beautiful, beauty lies in the moment.
This melancholy rainstorm of the Tang, Song dynasties, filled with sorrowful poems and lyrics, lost in wandering and longing for countless times.
If life is merely a first encounter, what is the meaning of autumn wind and a weeping fan? Don't say you're heartbroken, it's just that I was captivated at the time.
Reflecting in the water, holding my shadow, encountering you in the flower season, golden wind and jade dew cannot withstand the ravages of time.
That season of entanglement is engraved with the paleness of years, accompanied by time passing through a thousand years.
I made a mistake in trusting time, waiting for whom's unwavering love?
Looking across a thousand autumns, do you know, I've guarded you for a thousand years.
Am I your intercessor across the ages, imbued with fragrance accompanying you into your dreams, accompanied by your tender heart and passion?
Exchange your heart for my heart, only then do I understand the depth of remembrance, together watching the spring colors warm, together experiencing the heavens and the clouds.
Now, at the ends of the earth, asking flowers and rain to speak, for whom do dreams remain endless, for whom do tears fall?
A pipa melody, two eyes blooming with tears, the bitterness of longing, waiting and guarding, watching flowers bloom in the morning, counting petals in the evening.
Fragrant buds remain intact, most pity the last remnant of the lotus, wanting to borrow from the Immortal Widow Lotus to build a tomb of fragrant petals.
Asking the swallows about sorrow, how many times have you been troubled by wind and rain when parting from loved ones, who is most melancholy among the flowers on the path?
Looking up, asking about sorrowful clouds, overlapping words to create a painting – what is the intention? Closing my eyes, ashamed flowers – for what purpose?
Lowering my eyebrows, asking about lonely heart – when will I see the full moon, when will I meet you under the willows?
The trees yearn for flowers, the flowers yearn for butterflies, may no one resent her, she has loved her beloved throughout her life, forgetting her feelings, losing her intention, shedding a single tear after another.
Her eyebrows are tightly furrowed, she takes my hand, wiping the stone floor, each character, her heart trembling.
Walking along the stone path, a shadow walks with me, solitary and lonely, a sliver of moon – haven't you seen it? Closing my eyes.
Crimson maple leaves dance gracefully, without a word of farewell, the birds and flowers are sad, no one accompanies, stepping back and forth, as if in an instant, you were right before my eyes.
A lute melody, trembling with sorrow, witnessing the joys and sorrows of the world, adding a touch of vicissitudes, filling my sleeves with fragrant mist, silencing worldly affections.
In my palm, a world of splendor falls, playing out a song of romantic sorrow, holding a moonbeam, carrying a wisp of breeze, crossing a thousand years of dust and mist.
Lonely fingers glide across the soul's sorrow, how many unspoken loves, how many smiles and tears, looking back now, a bewildered dream.
I expend my entire life in tenderness and poetry, looking back now, I've already lost you.
