《 声声慢 》
Seeking and searching,
Quiet and empty,
My heart feels so melancholy and lonely.
It comes the season
Of alternating warmth with coldness
Yet I’m not wont to fit.
Could cups of thin wine
Truly make me warmer,
In such an evening cold and windy?
Across the sky the wild geese flapping away,
How wistful I am watching them to leave,
Alas! They might be the old I knew of.
On the ground the yellow flowers piling up,
How desolate I am seeing them wither and decay,
Is there one left fresh for picking?
By the window yearning for the darkness,
I watch the eventide gather up just inch by inch.
The drizzle, the phoenix tree,
Vague and rhythmical,
I hear the droplets driping on the leaves.
This moment, this dusk,
My feeling grows
Far beyond ‘sad’.