A poem written by Lin Daiyu in the Dream of the Red Chamber, a Ci poem, and a Song poem.
The poem written by Lin Daiyu in Dream of the Red Chamber: [Song of Burial of Flowers] Lin Daiyu Flowers wither, flowers fly, the sky is red, the fragrance disappears, who can pity? The gossamer gently hangs on the spring pavilion, and the falling catkins lightly touch the embroidered curtains. In the boudoir, the daughter cherishes the sorrow of spring and evening, and has no place to release it. Hand hoe out of the embroidered curtain, bear to step on the fallen flowers to come and go. Willow silk and elm pod are fragrant and beautiful, regardless of peaches floating and Li Fei; Peaches and plums can bloom again next year, who knows who will be in my boudoir next year? In March, the fragrant nest has been built. The swallows between the beams are too heartless! Next year, although the flowers can be pecked, but no one will leave the beam empty nest. Three hundred and sixty days a year, the wind, the sword, the frost, the sword, the sword When will the bright and beautiful beauty drift away, hard to find? Flowers bloom, easy to see, difficult to find, in front of the steps, worrying about killing the person who buried the flower I lean on my hoe alone, tears streaming down my face, blood on the branches above. The cuckoo is speechless, at dusk, carrying a hoe and returning to close the heavy door; The blue lamp shines on the wall, and the man is sleeping. Cold rain knocks on the window, and the quilt is not warm. Why do you blame me? half for pity and half for vexation. Love spring suddenly to anger suddenly to go to, but also silent to go not heard. Last night's sad song outside the court was the soul of flowers and birds? Flower soul, bird soul is always difficult to stay, birds are silent, flowers are ashamed; May I have wings today and fly with the flowers to the end of the sky. Where is the fragrant mound at the end of the sky? It's better to put away the beautiful bones in a brocade bag and cover the romantic atmosphere with a handful of pure land. The quality of the original clean to clean, but also clean to go, but also strong than the mud into the ditch. Now that you're dead, I don't know when I'll be buried. I'm burying flowers now, people laugh at me for being silly. Who will bury me in another year? Look at the fading flowers in spring, when beauty dies of old age; Once spring is over, the beauty and the old flowers fall, and the people die without knowing it!
