Spring
The lovely Lo Fo of the western land
Plucks mulberry leaves by the waterside.
Across the green boughs stretches out her white hand;
In golden sunshine her rosy robe is dyed.
“My silkworms are hungry, I cannot stay.
Tarry not with your five-horse cab, I pray.”
Summer
On Mirror Lake outspread for miles and miles,
The lotus lilies in full blossom teem.
In fifth moon Xi ShiR, gathers them with smiles,
Watchers o’erwhelm the bank of Yoya Stream.
Her boat turns back without waiting moonrise
To royal house amid amorous sighs.
Autumn
Moonlight is spread all o’er the capital,
The sound of beating clothes far and near
Is brought by autumn wind which can’t blow all
The longings away for far-off frontier.
When can we vanquish the barbarian foe
So that our men no longer into battle go?
Winter
The courier will depart next day, she’s told,
She sews a warrior’s gown all night.
Her fingers feel the needle cold.
How can she hold the scissors tight?
The work is done, she sends it far away.
When will it reach the town where warriors stay?