A Strand of Longing Grows, Half-Veiled with Flowers, Half with Sorrow
Who set the stage for longing, who calmly accepted it, longing turned into illness, a handkerchief wept blood.
Embroidery a sprig of lotus, by the candle, holding thoughts, lotus on the handkerchief, only your azure robe and shadow for imprint of my heart.
Thinking of you is too bitter, each character on a small note, clear tears, continuing a sorrowful parting song, fragrant poetry within the book, clear lyrics on the paper.
With my frail shadow, slender and faint, lightly placed by my heart, cold moon shines on flowers, do you know?
It's unbearable to see the fading spring, who in this small courtyard will pity a poor, lonely woman? Below the steps, diligently playing the returning wild goose song, by the courtyard fence, lazily counting small peach kernels.
A lonely shadow in the window, only breeds resentment, a poem's worth of sorrow is wasted on thoughts, yesterday's flowers bloomed, all merely a flirtation, tonight I'm a lone woman burying flowers.
Let the coolness of the rain tightly strike at my heart, let the heart break, tightly locked with sorrow, cold soul, lamenting,
A handsome man on the roadside, destined to spend this red dust and rain, forever guarding the moon alone.
Looking across the vast expanse, three lives and three worlds of true affection wither for whom?
For whom to fall, becoming a trace of clear tears falling into my palm.
That thousand-year-old, ten-thousand-year-old pain, does it also enter your heart? Let my soul together become wind, become mist, become dream.
A wisp of longing, stretching endlessly with white hair to the ends of the earth, night after night sleepless, who pities the fading years, lamenting the coolness of autumn,
A wisp of longing locks my existence and reincarnation, but doesn't lock my endless yearning for you,
Having missed the past, having missed this life, still missed you, the marks on the stone three lives long are faintly visible,
That flower petal fallen on the stone, still retains your scent, just a turn of the head,
You and I are already separated by vast distances, forever unable to meet, this shore, that shore, hand in hand gazing,
Falling to the ground, a cold, chilling ground, splashing a ground of heartache, a meeting without a future.
Sigh, one lifetime in the red dust is like flowing water, three lives guarding, always ending in nothing, the first time you met, always brings a sad ending,
Your kindled longing, exhausts my entire lifetime of tenderness, shattered, but it is the tangled knots in my heart, woven in the red dust,
At that moment, desolate and lonely, born out of nowhere, people leave, affection is also gone,
At that moment, dust falls to the ground, the outcome is predetermined, half-concealed wind and flowers, half-concealed sorrow,
From then on, one lifetime of loneliness locked my half-life's beauty,
A string of flute melodies always lingering, enduring to see lilies bloom into old age, recalling the beauty of the ice, admiring the dream, falling with the flowing water,
Springtime heart becomes poetry, a hundred poems, shadowy sorrow painted as a half-moon hook, the heart breaks at Dongfang's (Eastern Emperor) words, who can unravel this sorrow?
Tonight, which night is it? You've passed by, thinking of you, fading, along with scattered petals,
This shore has no you, that shore has no me, three lives, three worlds, who can share this, who knows this hatred.
