Spring cannot be retained,
Though orioles have exhausted their song.
The ground is strewn with fallen reds like brocade stained,
The southern garden washed by rain all the night long.
For the first time the songstress plucked pipa string;
At dawn her yearning soars into the sky.
The painted hall with crimson door’s no place for spring;
The vernal breeze with willowdown wafts high.
留春不住?
费尽莺儿语。
满地残红宫锦污,
昨夜南国风雨。
小怜初上琵琶,
晓来思绕天涯。
不肯画堂朱户,
春风自在杨花。