The
Star River (1) turns slowly in the sky, Curtains over everyone's doors and
windows hang closed. My mat and pillow grow cold, soaked by tears. I get
up and untie my silky gown, And ask: "How late has the night
drawn?"
Ornaments of needlework are on my dress: Green lotus seed pods
embroidered on it. A few lotus leaves on the golden silk. Oh, the
self-same weather as in the old days! Oh, the self-same dress as in the old
days! Only my heart Is not as in the old days!
/1 
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