Dearest poet you I deeply long for
but fate dictates our love 's not meant to be
my parents have bethrothed me
to the son of the rich Lin family--

poets are poor like beggars
thus they spoke to me
I would have children
did I want to live in poverty?

How pitiful are scholars
they dream but make no money
bread and rice have to be paid for
they don't grow on the tree.

Your thousand poems I've hidden
under my pillow and each word I embrace fondly
forgive me for failing you my love
we have to accept the cruelty of destiny.