Tune: Tipsy in the Flower’s Shade
The double ninth Festival
In thin mist and thick cloud of incense, sad I stay.
The animal-shaped censer I see all day.
The Double Ninth Festival comes again.
Still alone I remain in the curtain of gauze, on a pillow of jade, which the midnight chills begins to invade.
After dusk I drink wine by East Hedge in full bloom,
My sleeves filled with fragrance and gloom.
Say not my soul is not consumed!
Should the west wind uproll the curtain of my bower,
I would show a thinner face than yellow flower.