| 英譯： |
I close my door and trace the transformations of nature,
Living in the forest, I focus on the object of my thoughts;
I sigh for the tree in the winter cold,
For in days gone by it was lushly fragrant.
In the morning sun, where is the phoenix?
At sunset, the cicada is sad and alone;
My thoughts overwhelm me in the middle of the night,
Deeply I sigh, asking myself whom I await.
What I had cherished has surely gone forever,
And since it is gone, it cannot be retrieved;
Eating from bronze tripods is no affair of mine,
Life on a clouded mountain has been my hope.
The north is so very distant from the south—
And how my chariot horses do tarry!
Heaven and earth are totally alien to each other—
Silently I lie within my curtains
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