Bai Yong Haitang Lin Daiyu
Half-rolled curtains cover the door, and the ice is ground into earth jade as a basin.
Steal a pear for three cents and borrow a plum blossom for a soul.
The moon cave fairy sews robes, and the woman who always wipes crow marks in my heart in autumn.
Who is shy and silent? I'm tired of leaning against the west wind at night.
Ode to Bai Hai Tang (Jia Baoyu)
Autumn colors reflect the heavy doors, and seven sections are full of snow.
Bathing is too real, saying it is a shadow, and the heart holding the jade is the soul.
The morning breeze does not disperse a thousand sorrows, and the rain adds a tear.
Deliberately leaning on the painting column, clearing the anvil and blaming the flute to send you to dusk.