昨夜雨疏风骤,浓睡不消残酒,试问卷帘人,却道海棠依旧,知否,知否,应是绿肥红瘦。
Last night sparsed the gusty wind with rain fine.
Hardly did such sound sleep dispel the leftover wine
So drear, couldn't I try to ask the maid rolling the screen.
With the crab apples still?
Can it be seen? Can't it be seen?
Only to leave the wanning red and waxing green.