庭院深深深几许， 云窗雾阁常扃。 柳梢梅萼渐分明。 春归秣陵树， 人客远安城。 感月吟风多少事， 如今老去无成。 谁怜憔悴更雕零。 试灯无意思， 踏雪没心情。

Deep, deep, deeply hidden yard,
How deep is the path leading there?
Windows often shut, and pavilion buried in misty clouds.
Twigs of willow are no longer bare, buds of plum gradually appear.
To this land Spring has returned,
In this city I’ve spent another year.

When young, we’ve experienced so many;
Now aged, I’ve gotten nowhere.
Withered and pining away, but who else would care?
Lantern seeing? Not in the mood.
Snow touring? No one to share.