一年三百六十日，風(fēng)刀霜劍嚴相逼；
　　明媚鮮妍能幾時，一朝飄泊難尋覓。
　　Three hundred and three-score the year`s full tale:
　　From swords of frost and from the slaughtering gale
　　How can the lovely flowers long stay intact,
　　Or, once loosed,from their drifting fate draw back?

　　花開易見落難尋，階前悶殺葬花人；
　　獨倚花鋤淚暗灑，灑上空枝見血痕。
　　Blooming so steadfast ,fallen so hard to find!
　　Beside the flowers`grave,with sorrowing mind,
　　The solitary Maid sheds many a tear,
　　Which on the boughs as bloody drops appear.

　　杜鵑無語正黃昏，荷鋤歸去掩重門；
　　青燈照壁人初睡，冷雨敲窗被未溫。
　　At twilight ,when the cuckoo sings no more,
　　The Maiden with her rake goes in at door
　　And lays her down between the lamplit walls,
　　While a chill rain against the window falls.

　　為奴底事倍傷神，半為憐春半惱春：
　　憐春忽至惱忽去，至又無言去不聞。
　　I know not why my heart`s so strangely sad,
　　Half grieving for the spring and yet half glad:
　　Glad that it came ,grieved it so soon was spent.
　　So soft it came ,so silently it went!