一年三百六十日，风刀霜剑严相逼；
　　明媚鲜妍能几时，一朝飘泊难寻觅。
　　Three hundred and three-score the year`s full tale:
　　From swords of frost and from the slaughtering gale
　　How can the lovely flowers long stay intact,
　　Or, once loosed,from their drifting fate draw back?

　　花开易见落难寻，阶前闷杀葬花人；
　　独倚花锄泪暗洒，洒上空枝见血痕。
　　Blooming so steadfast ,fallen so hard to find!
　　Beside the flowers`grave,with sorrowing mind,
　　The solitary Maid sheds many a tear,
　　Which on the boughs as bloody drops appear.

　　杜鹃无语正黄昏，荷锄归去掩重门；
　　青灯照壁人初睡，冷雨敲窗被未温。
　　At twilight ,when the cuckoo sings no more,
　　The Maiden with her rake goes in at door
　　And lays her down between the lamplit walls,
　　While a chill rain against the window falls.

　　为奴底事倍伤神，半为怜春半恼春：
　　怜春忽至恼忽去，至又无言去不闻。
　　I know not why my heart`s so strangely sad,
　　Half grieving for the spring and yet half glad:
　　Glad that it came ,grieved it so soon was spent.
　　So soft it came ,so silently it went!