A Sophora tree shades the ground and outlines of the flowers,
Jade mat and silver bed seem spacious in a pearl mansion.
Sweat forms like beads in the white hemp robe;
A fan of silk gauze stirs the wind, rustling the silk curtain.
By the jade steps the pomegranate in full bloom.
The sun brightens the ornate eaves, and blinds cast oblique shadows.
A swallow in the carved beams all day long leads her nestlings out.

No one is at the garden fence; the bees sound busy.
She tires of embroidering and dozes in the hot afternoon;
Her phoenix hairpin drops, falling on a silk cushion.
On her forehead thin yellow grease, the remains of sleep.
A cuckoo on the wing wakes her from some romantic dream.
Friends from the Southern pond, in a magnolia boat,
Have gathered the lotus flowers and return to the quay.
They row gently, singing the water-chestnut song.
They startle and rouse a pair of white gulls on the water.