Last night,
within my chamber's gloom,
Some vague light, breath of spring,
Came wandering and whispering,
And bade my soul take wing.
It lingered but a moment's space,
That dream of spring, and died.
Yet, as my head the pillows pressed,
My soul had found thy side.
It is the first month of summer time.
The leaves are all full -hued,
and serrated banks of shaded green
all spread the jade -like sword.
They say that here, on happy days,
the phoenix comes home to roost.
But better I, in hour of ease,
to plant the hazelnut.
The beauty of the scenery
cannot sweeten my bitter memories.
In the courtyard,
moss spreads over the steps
despite the autumn wind.
My bead curtains hang down for days,
since no one comes.
In winter, spake he,
I will come again, dear maiden.
But that winter is forgot,
and days roll by,
And moons do wax and wane,
and still I watch,
And still he cometh not.
宵家香浪散千万 ,寒意逝残水百川
,望断天边归我。
Why?