| 英譯： |
WHEN lotus stalks are but half-grown, Thoroughwort and asarum fading,
Riding our horses, laden with gold,: We're off to hoc peonies.
Water drenches fragrant mud In their crescent pots,
After one night their green chambers Greet the white dawn.
Lovely girls chatting tipsily, Mist-hung gardens.
Evening petals scattered by now, Butterflies fade.
The Prince of Liang grew old and died, Sendal robes remain,
Waving their sleeves as the breeze plays 'Zithers from Shu'.
Wavering mists return in tatters, Broidered awnings in shadow,
Bewitching reds tumble to dust Favoured no more.
Master T'an and the Hsieh girl— Where are they sleeping?
Moon shines bright on terrace and tower, Swallows chatter all night.
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