| 英譯： |
I was a young girl hidden deep in her chamber;
I did not know the dust and smoke of the world.
Because I have married a man of Chang-kan,
Daily I go to the sands and look at the winds.
In May the south wind blows.
I think of you sailing down from Pa-ling.
In September the west wind whirls.
I dream of you coursing down the Yangtse river.
You came, you went away, and I shall always sorrow.
We were often parted, and rarely met.
When did you arrive at Hsiang-tan?
In wind and storm my dream follows you
Last night the wind raged furiously,
And broke the trees on the river-bank.
The river flooded over, the waters were boundless and dark:
Where were you then, O my beloved?
Your wife mounts the saddle of a flying cloud,
Desiring only to meet you east of the Orchid Island.
Then we shall be happy as mandarin ducks among green reeds,
Or as the sporting halcyons embroidered on a silk screen.
There was a time—I was just fifteen—
My face was as red as a peach flower.
Why should I be a river-merchant’s wife,
Thinking always of water and wind?
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