玉楼春·别后不知君远近

Since we parted I have not known whether you are far or near; all I see is desolation, and so much dull pain. Further and further you go, until no letters come; the waters are wide and the fish swim deep — where can I ask?

Deep in the night, wind in the bamboo beats out an autumn tune; ten thousand leaves, a thousand sounds, and every one of them regret. I lean on the lonely pillow and seek you in dreams; the dream will not form, and the lamp burns down to ash.