English中文
Washing Creek Sand: Too Weary to Comb My Hair, Grieved by Spring
髻子伤春慵更梳，
晚风庭院落梅初。
淡云来往月疏疏。
Grieving for the spring, too listless to dress my hair again; the evening wind blows the first plum petals down in the courtyard. Pale clouds come and go; the moon is thin and spare.
玉鸭熏炉闲瑞脑，
朱樱斗帐掩流苏。
遗犀还解辟寒无。
Duck-shaped jade censers laze over the fragrant camphor; cherry-red canopies veil the swaying tassels. Does the rhinoceros-horn charm still know how to drive off the cold?
Reading notes
Traditionally attributed to Li Qingzhao, this lyric is anonymous in Hua Cao Cui Bian, so the authorship remains uncertain. 遗犀 also appears as 通犀; this page retains 遗犀. 斗帐, read dǒu zhàng, is a small canopy shaped like an inverted measure; 还 is read hái, meaning “still.”