春花秋月入诗篇,白日清宵是散仙。
空卷珠帘不曾下,长移一榻对山眠。
Blossoms of spring, the autumn moon—
you have to turn them into poems
the bright days, the clear nights—
you feel surrounded by floating gods
I rolled up the curtain idly
and never rolled it back
I moved my couch to face the mountains
and slept here from then on.
Seven-character poem
This is a second poem, perhaps written later than the first one which indicates that Yu Xuanji knows that she is dying. Here it is becoming difficult for her to move as she lies in bed. But she hasn't given up yet, has she? She is out in bad weather, in a pavillion, copying this onto a wall. One would think that these two poems come in the last year of her life.
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