The green of the cassia in the garden disturbs the heart;
The red of the lotus in the pond gluts the eye.
In this life we are really distant travelers;
After a few partings you find yourself an old man.
Wind and vapor enter the small curtain;
Mist and rain come in through the tall window.
I recall the days of newly-married happiness:
By the vermilion casement her ornamented zither used to lie.