Ascending the high tower,
The lofty tower, remote, free of floating dust.
Jade balconies, splendid structures, how towering!
Phoenix songs, flute music, clear yet mournful.
Looking down upon the road to Chang'an,
Lush, lush grass by the imperial moat.
Obliquely facing the road to Sweet Springs,
Verdant, verdant trees of the Mao Mausoleum.
From the high tower, the view is the same in all directions,
The imperial region's auspicious air is dense and luxuriant.
Purple pavilions and red towers vie in brilliance,
Jade rooms and brocade halls are exquisitely interwoven.
To the east extends the Everlasting Joy Lodge,
To the west points the Endless Palace.
Red walls reflect the morning sun,
Green trees sway in the spring breeze.
Flag-adorned taverns, a hundred tunnels open new markets;
Mansions of the noble, a thousand roofs mark the relatives' quarter.
Vermilion wheels and emerald canopies cannot contain the spring,
Layered terraces and multi-storied pillars rise opposite each other.
Again there are pleasure houses along the broad avenue,
Embroidered doors, patterned windows, carved ornate lattices.
Brocade quilts are not folded at night,
Silken curtains are not empty by day.
Singing screens veil the emerald green in morning,
Dressing mirrors glimpse the rouge at dusk.
For you, I secure the jeweled coiffure,
Moth eyebrows cease from the flower thicket.
The dusty world's narrow paths darken as dusk falls,
Between clouds, the moonlight shines bright as plain silk.
On the mandarin duck pond, pairs fly together,
Beneath the phoenix tower, couples pass in tandem.
The scene is precisely like this,
How can one disregard such a fine rendezvous?
Silver saddles, embroidered carriages, brimming with splendor—
Pitifully, tonight we lodge in the courtesan's house.
Young wives of the courtesan house need not frown,
Peach and plum in the eastern garden bloom but for a moment in spring.
Look at the site of the high tower of old—
The Cypress Beam and Bronze Sparrow platforms are buried in yellow dust.