When will there be no more moon and spring flowers
　　For me who had so many memorable hours?
　　My attic which last night in vernal wind did stand
　　Reminds cruelly of the lost moonlit land.
　　Carved balustrades and marble steps must still be there,
　　But rosy faces cannot be as fair.
　　If you ask me how much my sorrow has increased,
　　Just see the overbrimming river flowing east!