Spring In Wu-ling
by Li Ching-jau (Southern Sung Period, 1135 A.D.)
The wind is still,
The earth smells sweet;
The flowers all have fallen here.
As evening comes,
Dejectedly,
I comb my hair.
His things remain
But he is gone;
So everything's over.
When I try to speak
The tears well up.
I hear that spring's
Still at its height
At Double Creek ...
I think of going to sail
The light skiffs there,
But alas, I fear
The grasshopper-boats
At Double Creek
Could never bear
So great a weight
Of sorrow.
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