"Song of Ho Man-tzu" (Ho Man-tzu)（II）
She does not speak, her make-up is smudged and thin.
She is shyly timid, her sleeves hang light and easy.
How often in her fragrant rooms has he slept past dawn?
The morning sun is a pale glow at the silken window.
Within iridescent curtains, they secretly made love.
Her smiling face is soft like a fresh picked flower.
But her azure brows are caught in a sorrowful frown.
She looks at him, and her suffering grows even greater.
As she does her hair, he sees her rose jade fingers.
She stands alone, languidly leaning on the red door.
Who could know his parting would bring such emotion?
（Lois Fusek 译）