Have you not seen lovers of old, transformed into mandarin ducks?
Harmonizing calls, not apart for a night; necks entwined, a thousand years still seems too brief.
In second month, grass lush and lush, mountain cherries not yet sparse.
By golden pond, wind and sun are fine; where would they not rely on each other?
Meeting the roaming maiden who untied her pendant, and encountering the goddess treading waves.
Splendid light sways on emerald canopy, beautiful hues reflect pearls and jade.
Two shadows keep company, two hearts must not part.
Lingering on green sands, rippling, washing red feathers.
Spring light, oh so lingering; playful roaming, oh not yet returned.
Rest not near Heaven-Spring Pool, fly not near Long-Isle Park.
If you wish love never forgotten, you must flee far from human snares.
South lies the Xiao-Xiang isle, journey a thousand miles there.
Dongting Lake knows no bitter cold, Yuan River flows with jade-green streams.
Once a ill-fated concubine, no day without sorrow.
Now birds upon the water, soaring together, seeking each other.
Luoyang maidens in painted chambers, second-month silk robes light and thinner.
Gold-dusted patterns not yet precious enough; embroidered as mandarin ducks, then fit to wear.
Also young wives at blooming age, in spring chambers, companionless, lovely and alone.
Night after night learning to weave branch-linked brocade, weaving mandarin ducks, all people pity.
Long, long by Xiang River's bank, clear and shallow, ripples cradle new duckweed.
Sweet-flag flowers bloom dazzling, none know them; river willows meander, vainly ushering spring.
Only pity the lone crane following a lute tune, and recall the solitary phoenix hidden in mirror dust.
I wish to be a mandarin duck quilt, long covering those with love.