The South Wind Knows My Thoughts, Blowing Dreams to Westzhou
I am a madman from Chu, laughing at Confucius' song.
Meeting you is like a drink, and I'm here to toast with you; sitting by the willows by Ma Gao Lou.
If I'm drunk, I want you to go to sleep, and if you have no heart, then please leave me.
I’m drunk, lying under the ancient vine, lost in thoughts of north and south.
This feeling should be about keeping a long-lasting love; if you don’t have feelings for me, then please leave me.
Red-clad beauty and white-clad friend, singing together in the morning and drinking together in the evening.
When will I have a staff to watch the South Snow? I’ll grow old with the plum blossoms.
After parting, our longing is like a river, and after returning, it's already three lives.
Spring water is greener than the sky, and we sleep on painted boats listening to the rain.
Like polished beads, jade beans in my bones, do you know the longing within?
The autumn moon falls on the western pines, the old memories linger.
The south wind knows my thoughts, and blows my dreams to Westzhou.
Life is like a river, with no end; clouds drift, and tastes are brewed into tea.
The moon was bright when it shone on the rainbow clouds, returning to the sky.
When will I revisit the Pavilion of No Dou, on a snowy day?
The autumn rain is coming, and the wind fills the tower.
Rain dampens the passing of time, and the fragrant grass year after year is filled with sorrow.
The late evening rain, accompanied by the willow wind.
The rain falls, and the peach blossoms shower down, like a beautiful painting.
The blood and tears of longing are scattered like red beans, and the spring willows and flowers will never be finished.
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