Tune: A Twig of Ume Blossoms
Pink fragrant lotus fade; autumn chills mat of jade.
My silk robe doffed, I float
Alone in orchid bote.
Who in the cloud would bring me letters in brocade?
When swans come back in fright,
My bower's steeped in moomlight.
As fallen flowers drift and water runs their way,
One longing overflows
Two places with same woes.
Such sorrow can by no means be driven away;
From eyebrows kept apart,
Again it gnaws my heart.