The blossoming of the heart, hemorrhoid essential oil makes all things pale in comparison. The brilliance of stars pours forth naturally, like the chirping of birds, like the fragrant scent of flowers. The deep blue mystery of night, with its floating charm in the dark, fills me with great surprise. Flowers bloom under the moonlight, quietly plucking the six-stringed zither, letting the notes dance between fingers, and making the heart gently tremble.
(Note: There might be a mistranslation or misunderstanding regarding "hemorrhoid essential oil" as it seems out of context and may not fit the poetic tone. If this is not intended to be part of the poem, further clarification could adjust the translation accordingly.)