Silently going upstairs to the boudoir by myself

Silver crescent is hanging

A lonely phoenix tree standing in the deep garden

All the doors of a crispy autumn night are locked

It never can be cut and break up

It never can be figured out

What is it of missing you?

That is as much feeling as for you in my heart, never be more and never be less.

note: This is translated from an ancient poem from Yu Li