To the tune of “Intoxicated in the Shadow of Flowers”
Thin mist, dense clouds, a grief-stricken day;
Auspicious incense burns in the gold animal.
Once again, it is the joyous mid-autumn festival,
But a midnight chill
Touches my jade pillow and silk bed-screen.
I drink wine by the eastern fence in the yellow dusk.
Now a dark fragrance fills
My sleeves and makes me spin.
The bamboo blinds sway in the west wind.
And I am even thinner than a yellow flower.