I Step Forward But Hold My Tongue
Hovering over the spring flowers,
A golden oriole trills its aubade.
Nearby, a lovely girl, jade-complected, replies,
Her fingers lingering on the zither's strings.
She would play forever, she believes:
Such are the love-thoughts of her spring years.
But let the petals wither: farewell oriole,
And then, how cold the wind, the tears.
（Peter Stambler 译）
Above the blossoms sing the orioles:
Kuan kuan, their dear notes.
The girl with a face like jade
Strums to them on her lute.
Never does she tire of playing—
Youth is the time for tender thoughts.
When the flowers scatter and the birds fly off
Her tears will fall in the spring wind.
（Burton Watson 译）