Bluish autumn mists drift over the lake,
Each blade of grass is covered with rime,
As though an artist had strewn jade-dust
Over the delicate blossoms.
The sweet fragrance of the flowers has faded,
A cold wind bends low their stems;
Soon the withered golden petals
of the lotus-flower will drift on the water.
My heart is weary. My little lamp
Guttered with a hiss, it summons me to sleep.
I come to you, beloved resting-place,
You, give me rest, I need to be refreshed!
I weep much in my loneliness,
The autumn in my heart persists too long;
Sun of love, will you never shine again
And dry up tenderly my bitter tears?
