Pink hands so fine,
Gold-branded wine.
Spring paints green willows palace walls cannot confine.
East wind unfair,
Happy times rare.
In my heart sad thoughts throng;
We've severed for years long.
Wrong, wrong, wrong!
Spring is as green,
In vain she's lean,
Her silk scarf soaked with tears and red with stains unclean.
Peach blossoms fall
Near deserted hall.
Our oath is still there. Lo!
No word to her can go.
No, no, no!
Chinese historian and poet (1125–1210)