To The Tune Of Song Of The South

In the sky, the River of Stars is moving.
In the world of mortals,my curtains are hanging down.
It is getting chilly on my tear-soaked pillow and mat.
I get up to losen my silk robe, wondering how advanced is the night.
Tiny the lotus seeds hugged by petals emerald-colored.
Few the arrowroot leaves in faded shades of gold.
The same old weather and the same old robe,
But my feelings and thoughts differ from those of byone times.

by Li Qingzhao

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