He Zhu (1052-1125): to the tune "Butterflies kiss flowers"

What should hurt the spring when a spring day is over? Poplars and willows under the clear moon, their twigs just in the way of strolling people.

On a small hill at the horizon, peach leafs come out, and with a pure delight, petals scatter all over my fresh washed robe.

When the day is over, tiny sounds of short and long poems, in the shadow of the curtains, light in the dark, and hearts send their words by a zither tune.

The sound of rain has relieved the wind, amidst floating clouds the dim and hazy moon.