I still could smell the fragrance on your pillow
- Poetry of Nalan Xingde

I still could smell the fragrance on your pillow,

the spring hasn't gone in this garden.

Among the pear trees,

i seemed to see her after i got drunk.

We whispered to each other like we first met.

Now the painting screen was cold in the moonshine,

your smile hasn't gone in this garden.

Among the sweet serenade,

moon was same as the day you left,

but did you have the same feeling as mine?