At thirteen, learning to embroider silk robes,
Admiring my red sleeves, smelling their sweet scent.
People said this was my wedding dress,
Smiling, I did not stitch the paired mandarin ducks.
My lord was nineteen, his beard not yet grown,
Given office, his fame spread under heaven.
Carriages and horses crowded, congratulating at our gate,
Naturally, he was destined to be a high minister.
At that time, my family was not yet poor,
My brothers came and went in paired carriages.
In full splendor and peak, we were well-matched,
And in our youth, we were wed.
His home was near the imperial canal,
Guests from noble houses all wore pearl-studded shoes.
Carved plates and wine vessels never dried,
At dawn, entering the central kitchen, I rose first.
Mother-in-law stern, with strict rules,
Young sister-in-law spoiled, her whims hard to please.
Morning audience, evening bows in the white jade hall,
Embroidered clothes worn out, threaded with gold.
My looks gradually fade, his affection gradually thins,
Often forcing a smile, feeling desolate.
Knowing my lord never had winter in his heart,
How many times have I hidden tears, watching flowers fall?
I am forty, my hair full of silver threads,
My lord is fifty, enfeoffed as a duke or marquis.
In a man's prime, he forgets the old days,
The silver bed and feather curtain empty and whistling.
Courtyard flowers redden everywhere, butterflies flit,
Watching my lord descend from court, wearing jade.
Returning, he barely glances my way,
But makes the maidservants glow with favor.
My lord resents that women age so easily,
I too hold deep resentment, but cannot bear to speak.
Watch how long my lord's vigor can last,
Past sixty years, he too will wither and dry.