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.