| 英譯： |
LIGHT of tapers, hung on high, Shines through the gauzy air.
In the flowery chambers at night they are pounding Red palace-wardens,
The elephant's mouth puffs incense forth, My Persian rug feels warm.
When Seven Stars hang over the city-wall, I hear the clepsydra's gong.
The cold creeps in past the caves-nets As palace shadows darken.
The brilliant simurghs on lintels of blinds Bear scars from the frost.
Crying mole-crickets mourn for the moon, Beneath curved balustrades.
Crook-knee hinges and door-plates of bronze Lock in this poor Chen.
In dreams I go through the gates of my home, Up past sandy isles.
Where the River of Heaven curves down through the air Lies the Long Island road.
I wish that my lord, who is dazzling bright As the Great Light itself,
Would set me free to ride off on a fish, Attacking the waves.
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