To the tune of
Intoxicated Under the Shadow of Flowers
The Double Ninth Festival
Light mists and heavy clouds,
melancholy the long dreary day,
In the golden censer
the burning incense is dying away.
It is again time
for the lovely Double Ninth festival;
The coolness of midnight
penetrates my screen of shear silk
and chills my pillow of jade.
After drinking wine after twilight
under the chrysanthemum hedge,
My sleeves are perfumed
by the faint fragrance of the plants.
Oh, I cannot say it is not enchanting,
Only, when the west wind stirs the curtain,
I see that I am more gracile
than the yellow flowers.
