Cold and miserable, the pavilion was late, and the shower began to rest. When the door is empty, I miss it, and the blue boat is ruined. I held my hand and looked at me with tearful eyes, but I was speechless and choked up. I thought of a thousand miles of smoke and waves and sank into the sky at dusk.
Since ancient times, it has been more painful to leave than to neglect the clear autumn festival. Where will you wake up from tonight's wine, Yang Liuan, where the breeze is weak? After the New Year, it should be a good time to exist in name only. Even if there are many kinds of customs, who can you tell?
Full text translation:
After autumn, cicada is so sad. Facing the pavilion, it is evening and a sudden rain has just stopped. Drinking wine in the farewell tent outside the Bianjing city gate is not in a good mood. When I was reluctant to go, the people on board were already urging me to start. Holding hands, looking at each other, my eyes were full of tears, and I couldn't speak until the end, and I couldn't say a thousand words in my throat. Thinking about going back to the south, this journey is another journey. Thousands of miles away, there is a wave of smoke and the dark night sky is endless.
Since ancient times, the most sad thing for sentimental people is to leave, not to mention this cold and desolate autumn, how can this sadness of leaving stand! Who knows where I will wake up tonight? I'm afraid there are only Liu 'an, the biting morning wind and the waning moon at dawn. After a long time, (people who love each other are no longer together,) I estimate that even if there is good weather and good scenery, it will be the same as nothing. Even if you are full of affection, who will you tell?