English Rendering
When swallows are ready to go,
Last night the west wind blew on the tower high.
We’ve managed to meet on earth below,
And drink by chrysanthemums with cup of gold.
Long songs we sing with faces rosy and bold.
The setting sun peeps through the screen;
A light chill penetrates plane trees green.
How many feelings can’t be told
Are written in the song on paper fine.
This feeling weighs thousands of tons in my mind.