When will there be no more an autumn moon and spring time flowers
For me who had so many memorable hours?
My attic which last night in the east wind did stand
Reminds me cruelly of the lost moonlit land.
Carved balustrades and marble steps must still be there,
But rosy faces cannot be as fair.
If you would ask me how my sorrow increased,
Just see the over-brimming river flowing east!