Deep, deep the courtyard where he is, so deep
It's veiled by smoke like willows heap on heap,
By curtain on curtain and screen on screen.
Leaving his saddle and bridle, there he has been
Merry-making. From my tower his trace can't be seen.
The third moon now, the wind and rain are raging late;
At dusk I bar the gate,
But I can't bar in spring.
My tearful eyes ask flowers, but they fail to bring
An answer, I see red blooms fly over swing.
住戶編號:1970123
檢舉原因
心情: 
