Man jiang hong:
A homeland after upheaval
The gloomy mood within is hard to describe.
Spring is almost gone, the mugwort has just sprouted;
The window adornments overlap one another.
The eaglewood in the burner has turned to ashes, but still I am loath to get up;
The small window faintly shows the clouds and moon.
Sad it is, that life isn’t like a lotus in the water,
With hearts entwined.
Tears of parting
Brim with blood,
Flowing without end,
Their waves swelling with sobs.
Seeing wild geese return in groups
Often compounds my biting grief.
More and more my kohl brows pale in the mirror;
Now and then the waning moon appears at bedside.
This spring, did I dream of visiting my hometown
And startling the cuckoos?
The jade flute sends off cool autumn;
On the red plantain, dew has not dried.
The night fragrance is fading don’t lean from the high tower!
The cold moon and the traveler are both sojourners;
She keeps me company in a somber land.
Into the small courtyard comes frontier grief;
Iron weapons litter old haunts.
Where can one find a small boat in the five lakes?
In my dream the river’s cries blend with sobbing tears;
Why don’t they flow toward my old home?
Late Spring Impromptu
Livingon a side street
ina house of poverty,
feware my companions
inthis hidden alleyway;
onlyin the heart of dreams
ismy beloved there.
Incensewafts into my silken dress,
whereare they having a party?
Thebreeze carries with it the voice of song;
whereis the pleasure pavilion?
Thestreet is so near, I’m wakened at dawn
bythe sound of noisy drumming,
mycourtyard’s so peaceful,
scattersmy springtime sorrows.
Howcan I pursue the affairs
thatbelong to the human world?
Remainingthe same for ten thousand miles,
Inever tie down my boat.