You were a beauty from Yuzhang, just over thirteen years old.
Like a green phoenix tail newly grown, or red lotus petals tightly curled.
The lofty pavilion leaned halfway to the sky, the Zhang River met the azure void.
Here they tested your song, specially spreading splendid mats.
The host looked around at all guests, first surprised at your hesitant approach.
A Wu maiden rose to guide you, lingering, long skirts swaying.
Your twin hair buns rose and fell, just above the green silk blouse.
With eyes bright, sleeves suddenly dropped, a first call like a young phoenix.
Intricate strings burst through stops, reed pipes cracked round gourds.
All other sounds could not keep up, winding through the clouded path.
The host sighed again and again, saying this was unique under heaven.
He gifted you heavenly-horse brocade, paired with water-rhinoceros comb.
Watching autumn waves at Longsha, roaming Zhu Lake under bright moon.
From then on, whenever we met, three days felt like estrangement.
Your jade-like quality swelled with the moon, beauty unfolded with spring.
Vermilion lips grew more deft, cloud-like steps turned light and slow.
Banners suddenly went eastward, songs followed ships in line.
Frost withered Xie's tower trees, warm sand graced Gou Creek reeds.
Let the world beyond turn to dust, before the cup we sought utmost joy.
A carefree immortal guest, whose satirical verse rivaled Xiangru.
He engaged you with jasper pendants, carried you in purple-cloud chariots.
The cave closed, water sounds distant, moon high, toad shadow lone.
Not many years had passed since then, all Gao Yang's companions scattered.
In Luoyang we met again, graceful you stood by the wine shop.
You wondered why I suffered so, young yet with white beard hanging.
Are old friends still around? Could downcast drift be worse?
After wailing at the old gatehouse, autumn scenes of water and clouds began.
The slanting sun hung on withered willows, cool wind rose by the seat's corner.
Tears soaked all my lapel's front, this short song but a brief record.