I oft remember your robe when green grass is seen,
Perfumed by incense burnt your girdle green.
All is quiet along the balustrade,
On which we leaned when daylight began to fade.
The breeze is full of grace,
The moon has left no trace,
My soul is steeped in hidden grief.
And I would try
To write it on a withered flower or leaf
And send it to the morning cloud on high.
長(zhǎng)因蕙草記羅裙,
綠腰沉水熏。
闌干曲處人靜,
曾共倚黃昏。
風(fēng)有韻,
月無(wú)痕,
暗銷(xiāo)魂。
擬將幽恨,
試寫(xiě)殘花,
寄與朝云。