Over the rolling mountains, misty clouds hang like a pall.
Ornamented with blooms in spring, pavilions fade into the hazy rain.
Echoing the silence of the night, the sound of bamboo flute is dolorous.
A beauty on a bridge is immersed in sad memories of lost love.
Clouds, air and rain were floating with wind over thousands of mountains,
which hazyed the little spring path, the pagoda and the beatutiful flowers.
Under the moon, beside a curly creek, intrigged by the sound of a longly flute,
a gent in blue stopped at the east of the little bridge recollecting his past.
The misty rainy clounds floating over the mountains were so quite;
Seeing flowers fading and I reclined on my porch swing that Spring night;
Then I heard a familiar blue melody flowing out of a flute along the creek under the moon light;
I missed him, my young lover in black on the other side of the creek, who is still in my sight.
Clouds atop mountains become rains gone with wind,
Pavillions fade into leaves and flowers in Spring
Creek zigzags under moon light while the flute mutes
Cross my mind are the moments by the bridge when we were young
Hills，clouds，rains blown in wind, Path，pagoda，flowers bathed in spring. Flute's quieter than the creek winding under the moon, Gal in blue lives east of the bridge in my mood.
Submerged in the sea of dampened clouds, the rugged mountains greeted the spring rain rode with gale.
Through the fields of revitalization, A pavilion overlooked a path embellished with hazy silhouette of blossoms The Moon shone on a tortuous creek, While the brisk sound of a flute permeated the chilly air quick.
Echoing the silence of the dull night, Touching the heart of a girl with passionate mind.
Dressed in green satin skirt by a porch, The beauty indulged in romantic moments hovering at the east side of a reminiscent bridge.