英譯: |
Wistfully gazing at the Silver River, I play the jade pan-pipes;
The pavilion is chilly, the courtyard cold, and dawn is drawing near.
Under the double quilt, a secret dream of former years is broken;
On another tree, a detained hen-bird was aroused last night.
In the moonlit arbor, an old fragrance is brought forth by the rain;
Behind the wind-blown curtain, the flickering candle is sheltered from the frost.
No need to follow recklessly the immortal on Mount K'ou—
The zither of Hsiang and the flute of Ch’in have enough feelings of their own.
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