The envoy in his light carriage suffers bitter toil, holding Han's token into the world's red soil.
Where green peaks break, the sun first comes to sight; where yellow sands fly, no human comes to light.
Where I, a woman, am matters little to care, behind red curtains and green screens, my silk skirts flare.
A man should value loyalty and righteousness, especially one who serves his lord with faithfulness.
Not fearing to die in duty for the king, but fearing to live in shame, a woman's sting.
When I married my lord, I was still naive, pity gold like dirt I did believe.
Mistakenly gave my jade body to a fickle youth, lying in mud yet wearing orchid, forsooth.
What to do with no rite, no righteousness in sight? Only holding my silk robes, belt upon belt tight.
Wishing my high virtue to match Liang Hong's fame, told to the grave-diggers, still I remain the same.
Do not sigh over long parting, for meeting and parting have their time.
What I wish is that you love yourself, nurturing the wonder in your heart's chime.
Do not hate the long separation, I hope you hold fast your own station.
If what you hold is not righteousness, gaining it would be but disgrace's manifestation.
My lord, do not love my body, I would die to serve you truly.
A face of jade, a skirt cut from a hundred feet of cloth, duly.
And you, what should you do? For the state, love your own frame.
A section (integrity) unchanged even in death, as I serve my husband, the same.
Belt tied, people wait to depart; holding your clothes, we cannot part.
I leave you a cup of wine, listen to my three songs from the heart.
The first wishes you longevity, white hair as your companion's property.
The second wishes health and peace, a jade body harmonious and at ease.
The third: be free from family's weight, do not make me sigh at fate.
Do not worry about not being rich or noble, but fear falling into evil.