Riverside Daffodils
Awake from dreams, I find the locked tower high;
Sober from wine, I see the curtain hanging low.
As last year spring grief seems to grow.
Amid the falling blooms alone stand I;
In the fine rain a pair of swallows fly.
I still remember when I first saw pretty Ping,
In silken dress embroidered with two hearts in a ring,
Revealing lovesickness by touching pipa’s string.
The moon shines bright just as last year;
It did see her like a cloud disappear.