English Rendering
The orchid dew is like her eyes,
No rosettes on her tombs,grow bluer the pansies.
Little grass is her cushion.
pine tree is her roof.
She wears the light wind as her gown
and the clear stream as her bracelet.
The carriage she sat silently waits for her in the twilight,
The wildfire follows her like the blue sprites.
Now she's gone on the Xiling Bridge,only the sleet whines about her story.
