Autumn mists drift blue over the lake;
Covered with rime ice stand all the grasses;
One might think an artist had sprinkled jade dust
Over the delicate blossoms.
The sweet scent of the flowers has vanished;
A cold wind bends down their stems.
Soon the wilted golden leaves
Of the lotus blossoms will drift on the water.
My heart is tired.
My little lamp has gone out with a sputter;
It makes me think of sleep.
I come to you, dear place of rest!
Yes, give me quietude, I have need of comfort!
I weep much in my loneliness.
The autumn in my heart has been there too long.
Sun of love, will you no more shine,
And gently dry my bitter tears?