An entire life gone by without lovesickness. When it is had, it hurts quite bad, the self like a floating cloud, the mind like a flying puff, the breath like wafting silk.
In the air here is a strand of remnant incense, but where has that wayfarer of special wealth gone?
When the symptoms come, when truly do they?
When the lanterns are half-dimmed, when the moon is half-brightened.

Original Text
平生不会相思，才会相思，便害相思。身似浮云，心如飞絮，气若游丝。
空一缕余香在此，盼千金游子何之？证候来时，正是何时？
灯半昏时，月半明时。