I

Budding branches, stems of flowers,
Blossom while I watch.
Touched with white and streaked with crimson -
Cheeks fo a girl from Yue,
Sad to say, once dusk has come,
Their wanton fragrance falls.
They have eloped with the spring wind,
Without a go-between.

V

Why shouldn't a young man wear a Wu sword?
He could win back fifty provinces in pass and mountain,
I wish you would visit the Ling-yan pavilion,
How can a student ever become a rich marquis?
VI

Seeking a style, culling my phrases,
Grown old carving grubs!
At dawn the moon hangs in my blinds,
A bow of jade.
Can't you see what is going on, year after year,
By the sea of Liao-dong?
Whatever can a writer do
But weep in the autumn wind?