①
A bright moon fell into my jade calice
Boiled cyan tea-mist to wander round corridor
Hearing my clepsydra sound and guest came
A pine branch fondled on tracery
②
Pipa's four strings all cross hoarse
Trembling burl-scars die on tree
Dancing time-birds gently wipe mature leaves
But only dried vines grows new spears
③
Budding wind wrinkles withered sky
Adds melancholy to cloudy sea
Who paces winter stroll summer in May
Picks consolida flowers to free
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem