Do not decline a deep cup filled with luscious amber wine, before real drunkenness sets in, the mind is already numb. The sound of a distant bell answers rising evening winds. The camphor incense burns down, my dream is interrupted, the warming-gold hairpin is small, my hair knot grows loose. Sober now, I sit vacantly before the candle’s red glow.
3.9
莫許杯深琥珀濃。
未成沈醉意先融。
疏鐘己應晚來風。
瑞腦香消魂夢斷 辟寒金小髻鬟鬆。 醒時空對燭花紅。
To the tune “Sands of the Washing Stream”
Do not decline a deep cup filled with luscious amber wine, before real drunkenness sets in, the mind is already numb. The sound of a distant bell answers rising evening winds.
The camphor incense burns down, my dream is interrupted, the warming-gold hairpin is small, my hair knot grows loose. Sober now, I sit vacantly before the candle’s red glow.