The ninth day of the moon

Transparent haze, cloudy cloud
It takes a long time
Bad day.
The ninth day the ninth moon is coming,
The candle smokes with a spicy aroma
Fearful casting a shadow.
By midnight
It breathed cool
The breeze penetrates under the canopy.
And loneliness will be a reward
Only the jasper pillow chills.

I remembered: in the quiet hour of sunset
We are behind the weave east
We drink wine ...
Still to this day in the sleeves of the robe
Lurks the smell of once plucked
Flowers that have been gone for a long time.
What a measure of suffering!
And the west wind
Tears the curtain on the window ...
You're yellow chrysanthemum withering
Could have seen by looking at me.

Li Qingzhao