江边的愁花说不出，又无处诉说——我已半疯了。我看了看我们南边的邻居。但我的酒友已经喝了十天了。我发现只有一张空床。一大片疯狂的花朵笼罩着河边，我漫步着，危险地倾斜着，满心害怕春天的到来。诗，酒——即使是这些，我也能忍受。对这位白发苍苍的老人的安排可以等等。一条很深的河，两三间竹林里安静的房子，还有这样的景物:红花映白!我也有自己的位置，置身于春天喧嚣的辉煌之中:喝上一杯美酒，祝人生万事如意。往东望，烟雾缭绕的绍，我更佩服那富丽堂皇的柏花酒楼。 To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautiful Dancing girls to embroidered mats -- who could bear it? East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave, Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes. In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless, Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark? At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths: Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down. And butterflies linger playfully -- an unbroken Dance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease. I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid, Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous. And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talk Things over, little buds ---open delicately, sparingly.