Li Qingzhao Poems

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To The Tune Of Wu Ling Spring Late Spring

Wind ceased, the dust is scented with fallen flowers.
Though day is getting late, I am too weary
to attend my hair.

To The Tune Of Like A Dream

I always remember the sunset
over the pavalion by the river.
So tipsy, we could not find our way home.

To The Tune Of Intoxicated Under The Shadow Of Flowers

Light mists and heavy clouds,
melancholy the long dreay day,
In the golden cencer
the burning incense is dying away.

To The Tune Of Song Of The South

In the sky, the River of Stars is moving.
In the world of mortals,my curtains are hanging down.
It is getting chilly on my tear-soaked pillow and mat.
I get up to losen my silk robe, wondering how advanced is the night.

To The Tune Of Song Of Peace

Year by year, in the snow,
I have often gathered plum flowers,
intoxicated with their beauty.
foundling them impudently

To The Tune Of To Rouge The Lips

Lonely in my secluded chamber,
A thousand sorrows fill every inch
of my sensitive being.

To The Tune Of A Variation Of Rinsing Silk Stream

Thousands of light flakes of crushed gold for its blossoms,
And the trimmed jade for its layers of leaves,
This flower has the air of Scholar Yen Fu.
How brilliant!

To The Tune Of Lamentation

It was far into the night when, intoxicated,
I took off my ornaments;
The plum flower withered in my hair.
Recovered from tipsiness, the lingering smell of wine.

To The Tune Of Thinking Of Maiden Chin

I ascent high on the sotried pavilion,
Below,mountains scatter in disorder;
The unclutivated plain extends
far in the light mist.

To The Tune Of Happy Event Is Nigh

The wind ceases; fallen flowers pile high.
Outside my screen, petals collect in heaps of red
and snow-white.
This reminds me that after the blooming of the cherry-apple tree.

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