Pear blossoms can hardly keep from withering, but droop. From the jade burner rises the up-curling smoke of the dying incense. Dreams cam back to me as I slumbered on the hill-shaped pillow which concealed my hairpins with flowery ornaments. Plum flowers, newly fallen, drift about the courtyard in the evening wind. The moon looks pale and light clouds float to and fro.
Incense lies idle in the jade duck-shaped burner.
The sudden change to light apparel brightened my spirit. Forget - I can not, except in wine when I drown my care. Snow is falling outside the windows, smoke from the chimney rises straight upward. It is difficult to enjoy spring flowers. The west wind is still too cold.