Let's enjoy it together; there's always something interesting inside. At this moment, saying anything is just showing off, just vanity without substance.
Ten, Ten Poems.
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】(New Rhyme)
When clouds and wild geese fly, people lazily ask; the door locks the lingering spring, locking away endless gloom.
At dusk, a slight chill, a few gusts of wind, scattered petals dance, forming a thousand regrets.
In the silent western garden, flowers share the pillow, jade dew and clear radiance, drinking wine facing the Moon Goddess.
No matter how small the heartbreak, I hear nothing of your near or far; endless loneliness, with whom to discuss it?
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】
One night the western wind turns autumn into evening, blowing away yellow flowers, red leaves dancing across the hills.
Some drops of incense are followed by rain, ultimately withering with no place to seek.
Often at the horizon, feeling the pain of parting. Always hoping to return home, yet still worrying about hunger and cold.
Most hateful is the passing of the years, the vicissitudes of life already dwelling among humans.
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】
On the journey, the wind sways the willows; too lazy to lift my head, stray catkins cling to my sleeves.
No way to keep spring from falling, residual petals drift through, releasing a pure fragrance.
Always at dusk, after people depart, alone on the silver bridge, quietly leaning on the rail for a long time.
The lonely reflection in the mirror-like water grows thin; by morning, the moon remains as before.
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】
Frightened awake at five yet the sky is not light, the moon shines through the west window, old trees cry, cold birds.
The ground covered with silver frost, wind howls from the north, long thoughts of the past add misery.
This was destined in this life. Yet why, from dreams, do we still entwine?
Time and dust age people further; yearning is not less than in the past.
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】
Sick and drunk at the tower under the slanting sun, gazing despondently at the horizon, clouds piled like snow.
Grass and trees decline, autumn waters weep, the vast desolation mirrors the cup's meaning.
Many past events frequently come to mind, even if not pondered, loneliness is hard to abandon.
Dreams break while love endures with nowhere to send, the parted lover always ties to the heart.
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】
Why does a person linger long before flowers, eyebrows deeply locked, staring blankly with no words?
Delicate faces of ill fate leave easily, worldly ties always bear emotional suffering.
At dusk, the chilly wind doesn't stop, stirring peach-pink petals, flying toward an unknown place.
How much of the remaining spring is there in sight? The heavens coldly cast the rain of crushed flowers.
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】
In the distance, clouds and smoke rise over the wave-like ridges. In the small courtyard, yellow flowers, lonely and unnoticed.
Cold arises around the slanted sun, wind uncertain, idly lifting a wine cup, often feeling ill.
The moon passes over the tile walls, branches playing with shadows, gentle flowing light, frost dyeing the quiet of midnight.
Drunken, lying by the slanted railing, sorrow not yet lifted, drowsily watching the Moon Goddess, feeling cold.
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】(New Rhyme)
Under the moon, who shares the peach-pink? Graceful shadows fill with charm, already stirring springtime hearts.
Only regret that the East Wind still does not understand, the fragrant tower sings at night of the Phoenix Hairpin.
Every meeting makes the heart more confused, how shy the face, secretly sending autumn glances.
It was destined in mundanity to tease, peach blossoms inciting a dream.
【Butterfly Loves Flowers】Two consecutive sections
(1)
She lives on the southern mountain by the water, such a beautiful skirt, such a graceful dance in the wind.\Every spring, how much fragrance there is, before the flowers I often gaze, sharing their language.\Married to the eastern lord, it brings feelings of parting; fleeting years, I have become the master of longing.\Beauty that overwhelms the city fades easily, too much affection always regrets life's bitterness.
(2)\You are at the edge of the world seeking a way to live, again reciting sorrows, again pausing on high.\Alas, a humble fate is hard to control, what a pity that the word 'love' becomes sour grief.\Good dreams are usually shared under the same moon, in the cool of autumn evenings, only the drizzle continues.\Leftover wine and withered lamps stir parting sorrow, the spring heart finds it hard to send to your fragrant place.
-----\Butterfly Loves Flowers, Ten Pieces.\The End………
