蹴罢秋千,起来慵整纤纤手。露浓花瘦,薄汗轻衣透。 见有人来,袜铲金钗溜,和羞走。倚门回首,却把青梅嗅。 Dianjiangchun I left off playing on the swing, rather tired. My clothes are soaked through; enough I had perspired. On my face was sweat like dew; my figure — lean. After I wrung my hand, I considered them clean. When I saw people come, my socks off my feet— My hair-pin missing, I beat a shy retreat. Leaning on a door, I looked to see who comes. In less than no time, I sniffed at the green plums. (徐忠杰 译) |
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