شكوى قصر الربيع

شكوى قصر الربيع

Long ago, my beauty proved my doom;

I face the mirror, too listless to dress.

Favors are not won by a lovely face—

How should I adorn myself now?

The warm breeze makes the birdsong tremble and break;

The high sun casts the flowers' shadows heavy and deep.

Year after year I remember the girls of the Yue stream,

Gathering lotus together, I recall them in my dreams.