《花間集．溫助教庭筠》
《花間集校注》（北京：中華書局，2014） & translations by ChatGPT
照花前後鏡，花面交相映。新帖繡羅襦，雙雙金鷓鴣。
Small hills overlap as golden light flickers and fades. The dark clouds of her hair nearly brush against the snowy whiteness of her fragrant cheeks. She is too lazy to rise and paint her delicate brows, lingering in her toilette, delaying her grooming.
In the mirror, flowers and her face reflect each other, blending in mutual brilliance. She adorns herself with a newly embroidered silk robe, featuring pairs of golden partridges.
其二
藕絲秋色淺，人勝參差剪。雙鬢隔香紅，玉釵頭上風。
Behind the crystal curtains and on the pillow embroidered with patterns, warm fragrance stirs dreams of a couple entwined on the brocade. The willows along the river resemble mist, and geese fly across the sky under the waning moon.
The pale autumn colors are like the fine threads of a lotus, cut unevenly by the season. Her double temples are separated by the fragrant blush, and the breeze plays with the jade hairpin atop her head.
The endless yellow buds bloom on the mountain ridge, her fading makeup concealing a hidden smile behind the gauze window. When they meet amidst the peonies, it is but a brief encounter before parting once again.
The jade hairpin is adorned with golden stems, with butterflies dancing in pairs atop it. Who truly understands her innermost thoughts? The moon shines brightly, and the branches are laden with flowers.
Twin mandarin ducks adorned with gold thread are perched atop her hair, while the ripples gently rise on the spring green pond. On the shore, the crabapple and pear trees are full of blossoms, their branches heavy with rain-washed red petals.
Her embroidered robe conceals her dimpled smile, and butterflies cling to the misty grass. Facing the fragrant flowers from within the courtyard, she seldom receives word from afar, and messages from the Jade Pass are rare.
The apricot blossoms hold dewdrops, forming fragrant snow clusters, while on the green willow-lined path, many farewells take place. The lamp's light mingles with the hazy moon, and upon waking, she hears the orioles singing at dawn.
She raises the jade hook to lift the emerald curtain, her light makeup barely outlining her once-full brows. A spring dream lingers in her heart, while the mirror reflects her delicate, thinning hair.
In the jade pavilion, under the bright moon, she constantly recalls him, while the willow branches sway listlessly in the powerless spring. Outside the gate, the grass grows thick, and she hears the neighing of his horse as he departs.
The painted silk robe is adorned with golden birds, and the scented candle burns down to tears. As the flowers fall, the cuckoo cries, and her lingering dreams fade away in the green-windowed room.
Golden threads coil into a pair of phoenixes, while the peony blossoms endure a night of light rain. The bright mirror reflects her fresh makeup, with her light temples framing her long cheeks.
She gazes longingly at the painted tower, where the drooping willows hang outside the railing. The letters she awaits do not return, and before the festival, the swallows fly back in pairs.
The peony flowers have withered, and the orioles' song has ceased. The courtyard is full of green willows under the moonlight. She longs for him, but dreams are difficult to achieve, as the lamp flickers half-bright behind the window.
Her jade-encrusted hairpin presses against her face, while she closes the lonely fragrant chamber. With tears streaming down her face, she is far from him, as spring fades once more with the flight of swallows.
The palace is bathed in bright moonlight, and the pear blossoms are pure white, but her old friend is separated by mountains and rivers, far away. A pair of golden geese fly together, and tear stains dampen her embroidered robe.
In the small garden, the fragrant grass is green, and her home lies by the winding Yue stream. The willows sway gently in the breeze, but while the swallows return, her beloved does not.
The jeweled box is adorned with gold mandarin ducks and magpies, while the incense pavilion overlooks the verdant peaks of Mount Wu. The willows once again sway like threads, as spring rains fall upon the bridge by the post station.
Communication from the painted tower has ceased, and fragrant grass now covers the southern banks of the Yangtze River. Who can truly understand these feelings, reflected in the mirror beside the blossoming branches?
In the southern garden, the ground is covered with light cotton fluff, and sorrow deepens as the brief Qingming rain begins. After the rain, the setting sun returns, and the fallen apricot blossoms release their lingering fragrance.
Silently, she smooths her sleep-disheveled face, while the mountain screen on the pillow remains shut. As dusk approaches, she leans against the door, listless and alone.
Last night, the bright moon hung high at midnight, and behind the heavy curtains, no one spoke. The musk incense lingered in the depths of the room, while she lay down with only a light touch of makeup.
In those days, she still cherished herself, but now past events are too painful to recall. The flowers are wet with dew under the fading moonlight, and the embroidered quilt barely keeps out the morning chill.
After the rain, the night-blooming flowers shimmer in the intricate sunlight, as thousands of fragrant branches sway with delicate red threads. In idle dreams, she recalls the golden hall, where the garden was filled with growing daylilies.
The embroidered curtains hang quietly, and her eyebrows are as green as distant mountains. By the spring water flowing beneath the creek bridge, she leans against the railing, her soul yearning to dissolve.
A light breeze stirs the bamboo, cooling the courtyard, as the pearl curtains cast delicate shadows under the rising moon. The mountain pillow hides her deep makeup, while green sandalwood combs hold golden phoenixes in her hair.
Her thin, worried eyebrows resemble faint smoke, as her distant homeland of Wu grows ever more remote. Springtime sorrow fills her heart, while the painted tower echoes with the last sounds of the night.
更漏子六首
The willow branches grow long, and the spring rain falls fine. Beyond the flowers, the sound of the night watch is faint. A startled goose rises from the borderlands, and city crows take flight; within the painted screen, golden partridges sit in silence.
The light mist of incense wafts through the heavy curtains, filling the room with melancholy as she recalls the pavilions and pools of the Xie family. The red candles burn low, the embroidered curtains hang, and she dreams deeply, unaware of his absence.
The stars are sparse, and the bells and drums have ceased. Outside the curtains, orioles sing under the waning moon. The orchid dew is heavy, and the willow wind blows askew, scattering fallen flowers across the courtyard.
In the empty pavilion, she leans against the railing, gazing out with the same melancholy as last year. Spring is nearing its end, and her endless thoughts swirl, as old affections seem like fleeting dreams.
The golden sparrow hairpin and her powdered face—briefly glimpsed among the flowers. She knows his thoughts and feels his affection, but who could understand this emotion, save for the heavens?
The incense turns to ashes, and the wax drips like tears, mirroring their intertwined feelings. The mountain pillow is smooth, the brocade quilt cold; when she awakens, the night watch has nearly passed.
They seldom meet, but think of each other often. Her eyebrows are faint, like light smoke resembling willows. She lowers the emerald curtain, tying a lover’s knot, while the courtier burns incense by the embroidered quilt.
The moon above the city is white as snow, while the beauty with cicada-like hair is overwhelmed with sorrow. The palace trees grow dark, the magpie bridge stretches across the sky, and the jade arrow just announces dawn.
Behind the building overlooking the river, the moon rises over the sea, as the city’s horn sounds a mournful wail. The dike willows sway, the island mists grow dim, and the geese flying in rows separate.
On the road to Jingkou, the returning sails cross the river, just as spring flowers begin to fade. The silver candles burn out, the jade cord hangs low, and a single rooster crows in the village.
The jade brazier emits fragrance, and the red wax drips like tears, casting light on the painted hall, where autumn thoughts linger. Her delicate eyebrows have thinned, her cloud-like hair is disheveled, and the long night brings cold to her quilt and pillow.
The parasol trees tremble in the third watch’s rain, unaware of the bitterness of parting. Leaf by leaf, drop by drop, the rain falls on the empty steps until dawn.
玉胡蝶一首
