A light frost falls at dawn when she rolls up the screen;
She breathes to warm her hands and pencils her brows green.
Nursing the parting sorrow still,
She draws her brows long as a distant hill.
As she recalls the past,
She regrets time flies fast;
Her heart would ache.
Before she sings, she pauses awhile,
And knits her brows when she would smile.
O whose heart would not break!
清晨帘幕卷轻霜，
呵手试梅妆。
都缘自有离恨，
故画作远山长。
思往事，
惜流光，
易成伤。
未歌先敛，
欲笑还颦，
最断人肠。