Icicles hang from the eaves,
playfully bringing a chill.
Amber-colored moonlight glimmers,
the waves remain calm.
The sky has cloudy and clear times,
life relies on fate,
I hesitate and struggle along the rugged road.
Snow keeps falling,
leaning on the railing to seek scenery.
The sound of the zither is crisp like ringing bells,
attracting attentive listening.
The sky is slightly brightening,
scattering shooting stars.
Upstairs expresses sentiments,
downstairs there is no response.
Who covers the quilt, dreams awaken again,
longing has frozen and drifted away.
Frowning brows cannot be smoothed,
the sound beyond the strings sends reminders.
The bell tolls frequently, swords meet,
hot blood turns into stiffness.
When will I walk with my beloved, to go green in spring?
Flowers drift again,
leaving stems lonely.
Golden bells ring, iron cavalry rides,
chaos has not ceased.
Water waves are uneven,
wrinkles disturb the floating duckweed,
my body, like grass, drifts with the wind—how can it return to stability?
The return date is unknown,
thinning the graceful figure.
Tears in the eyes are sparkling,
like the clarity of a pond.
Hearing your voice at night,
melts infatuation.
A whole night of loneliness,
returns to silence.
Who covers the quilt, dreams awaken again,
longing has frozen and drifted away.
Frowning brows cannot be smoothed,
the sound beyond the strings sends reminders.
The bell tolls frequently, swords meet,
hot blood turns into stiffness.
When will I walk with my beloved, to go green in spring......
