数声鶗鴂,又报芳菲歇。
惜春更选残红折。
雨轻风色暴,梅子青时节。
永丰柳,无人尽日花飞雪。
莫把幺弦拨,怨极弦能说。
天不老,情难绝。
心似双丝网,中有千千结。
夜过也,东窗未白孤灯灭。
There rise chirps of cuckoos, again they have come to call blossoms' end.
To seize spring, I longingly pick flowers' colourful remains.
Sudden rains and stormy winds the season of green plums commence.
Over the Yongfeng grounds, there's no one but drifting catkins all day.
Stroke not even a string, for it can such reticent bitterness express.
Unless the heavens mortal becomes, my love will never be laid to rest,
My heart is a cobweb doubled over, tied and knotted with a million frets.
The night is nearly over, the lamp has burnt out, the day hasn't broken yet.
ZHANG Xian
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