Orchids shed tears with doleful asters in mist grey. How can they stand the cold silk curtains can，tallay ? A pair of swallows flies away. The moon, which knows not parting grief, sheds slanting light. Through crimson windows all the night. Blew withered leaves off trees. I mount the tower high And strain my longing eye. I'll send a message to my dear, But endless ranges and streams sever us far and near.