王魁負(fù)桂英、書(shū)房夜讀 （live）歌詞

深秋庭院，一派蕭瑟?dú)庀蟆?br />人寂寂，影姍姍，月色朦朧夜已闌。
看樹(shù)影婆娑何人在，有誰(shuí)人荷露立蒼苔。
原來(lái)是鳳尾蒼松迎風(fēng)舞，所以隔窗兒疑似玉人來(lái)。
秋風(fēng)卷起梧桐葉，撲向簾櫳入秀闈。
又聽(tīng)那鐵馬檐前叮當(dāng)響，銅壺滴漏不住摧。
深秋庭院有蕭瑟感，令人兒怎不動(dòng)愁煩。
凄涼放下紗窗坐，重剔銀燈把書(shū)卷翻，只覺(jué)得心緒彷徨意徘徊。
The courtyard is bleak in late autumn.
People are quiet and shadows are slow. The moonlight is obscure late at night.
Looking at the shadows of trees dancing in the breeze, I wonder who is there. Who is standing at the dew-wet moss?
It turns out that green cycas and pines dance with the wind, so through the window I think my lover comes.
The autumn wind rolls up sycamore leaves which fly to the curtain and enter her boudoir.
Also, I hear the tinkling pieces of metal hanging from the eaves and the Copper Kettle Clepsydra’s sound.
The courtyard is bleak in late autumn. Certainly, I feel melancholy.
Closing the screen window and sitting down forlornly, I light up the candle and begin to read. However, I only feel at a loss and hesitate.