A Blooming Plum

The fragrantred lotuses have withered away,

My jade-like mat turns cool on autumn day,

Lightly putting off my skirt or silky coat,

Alone I boarded on the pretty boat.

Looking back, the wild geese fly,

Who's to send me a letter through clouds' sky?

My west chamber window's full of moonlight.

Flowers drift alone out of the smell,

The creek running alone is natural,

There's one kind of lovesickness,

Coming from two places with sadness.

No way could cure such a sickness,

Just falling down from my eyebrows,

Into my heart with sorrows.