| | Gold is born from sand and gravel; pearls emerge from clam mud. Lamenting this graceful beauty, born from humble origins. With charming eyes and graceful beauty, white teeth and delicate eyebrows. Her black hair is lustrous and smooth; her neck resembles the softness of a grub's skin. Her hair flows in all directions, its strands like the drooping leaves of the low-growing chrysanthemum. Tall and graceful, she is a stately and elegant woman. With brocade sleeves and red robes, her steps tread softly on silken thresholds. She walks with a graceful sway, rising and lowering herself gently as she sits. With a gentle demeanor and a ready smile, her movements uplift her red lips. Graceful and charming, she is elegant and full of poise. Intelligent and careful, she attends to tasks with the swiftness of flight. In managing household affairs and making precise cuts, none can rival her. As pure as the "Guan Ju," she does not tread the path of wickedness. Observing her conduct, such virtue is rare in this world. She should be a lady of noble rank, an exemplar for all women to follow. Alas, what is her fate, that she remains in such humble and lowly station? In this age there are no Fan Ji of the State of Chu or consorts of Jin to match. Reflecting on past times, Lady Zheng and Pingyang were favored in secret. Thus, due to their virtue, they were granted fiefdoms, passing through the borders of your state. Though she may attain joy and ease, her heart remains burdened with emotion. Cold snow falls in profusion, filling the courtyard and overflowing the steps. Layered robes weigh heavily; she turns restlessly, her spirit sinking into despair. The faint dawn approaches as the rooster crows in haste. Preparations for departure are made hastily; they will leave you behind, unheeding your plight. Confused and bewildered, her thoughts cannot be dispelled. 藟 Standing still by the ditch's side, she cries out in green robes. I long to depart far away; you wish to come and follow me. The bright moon shines clearly, illuminating my door. The gentle spring wind brushes past, blowing through the curtains of my bed. Drifting idly by the riverbank, I linger and pace in the courtyard. Looking south to the willows by the well, gazing upward at the Dipper's constellation. Not like Niulang and Zhinü, separated by the Milky Way. I think of you, I miss you; my heart aches with longing and hunger.
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