A green cotton skirt, a white feather fan,
With pearl curtains opened, the bright moon is full.
The red fires, constantly surging ahead, enter the pearl curtains.
In the endless and large desert, what appears to be mist is not mist, what appears to be smoke is not smoke.
Musing in the quite night, unable to scatter the raging thoughts.
The sound of the wind minutely breaks up while candlelight shadows scatter in confusion.
The heart turns insipid when the feeling of lovesickness becomes strong.
Once the sky brightens, a floating light illuminates the crystal chain.
Desires being incessant, the heart has a bowstring of lovesickness.
Slender fingers repeatly play the haunting song.
The night is always short, only lamenting that the traces of passion are long.
The passions being long-lasting, numerous are the yearnings,
Sitting down to watch the moon in the sky.