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King of Lanling: Remembering Bianjing
English Poetic Translation
Rolled up are the red pearl blinds,
the morning rain and lingering gloom now clear.
Beyond the balustrade, misty willows flirt with returning sun,
while fragrant grasses edge the steps to meet the glowing peonies.
The bitter eastern wind, jealous of petals,
strikes them down—
the tender buds upon the bough.
Behind the folding screen, the aloeswood incense burns low,
a wine-heavy heart now shuns the wine-cup's reach.
I search back to the old northern capital,
when youth was wild and free in reckless song and drunken mirth.
The lacquered carriage hurried our morning toilette.
We rode together down the imperial avenues,
wandered hand in hand through Shanglin Park,
making early vows just as the Lantern Festival passed.
Who could have dreamed of this adrift in exile?
So desolate,
recounting vanished joys.
Now cosmetic powder fades upon my lapel,
the zither strings are snapped and silent.
Jade branches and jasper moon, spring is just as it was before.
I grieve that since our parting, upon the tomb-post pillars,
when shall the twin cranes ever return?
Such yearning can be eased only here:
in depths of wine, to temporarily forget.
the morning rain and lingering gloom now clear.
Beyond the balustrade, misty willows flirt with returning sun,
while fragrant grasses edge the steps to meet the glowing peonies.
The bitter eastern wind, jealous of petals,
strikes them down—
the tender buds upon the bough.
Behind the folding screen, the aloeswood incense burns low,
a wine-heavy heart now shuns the wine-cup's reach.
I search back to the old northern capital,
when youth was wild and free in reckless song and drunken mirth.
The lacquered carriage hurried our morning toilette.
We rode together down the imperial avenues,
wandered hand in hand through Shanglin Park,
making early vows just as the Lantern Festival passed.
Who could have dreamed of this adrift in exile?
So desolate,
recounting vanished joys.
Now cosmetic powder fades upon my lapel,
the zither strings are snapped and silent.
Jade branches and jasper moon, spring is just as it was before.
I grieve that since our parting, upon the tomb-post pillars,
when shall the twin cranes ever return?
Such yearning can be eased only here:
in depths of wine, to temporarily forget.
Classical Chinese & Pinyin
卷朱箔。
朝雨輕陰乍閣。
闌干外，煙柳弄晴，芳草侵階映紅藥。
東風妒花惡。
吹落。
梢頭嫩萼。
屏山掩，瀋水倦燻，中酒心情怕杯勺。
尋思舊京洛。
正年少疏狂，歌笑迷著。
障泥油壁催梳掠。
曾馳道同載，上林攜手，燈夜初過早共約。
又爭信漂泊。
寂寞。
念行樂。
甚粉淡衣襟，音斷絃索。
瓊枝璧月春如昨。
悵別後華表，那回雙鶴。
相思除是，向醉裏、暫忘卻。
朝雨輕陰乍閣。
闌干外，煙柳弄晴，芳草侵階映紅藥。
東風妒花惡。
吹落。
梢頭嫩萼。
屏山掩，瀋水倦燻，中酒心情怕杯勺。
尋思舊京洛。
正年少疏狂，歌笑迷著。
障泥油壁催梳掠。
曾馳道同載，上林攜手，燈夜初過早共約。
又爭信漂泊。
寂寞。
念行樂。
甚粉淡衣襟，音斷絃索。
瓊枝璧月春如昨。
悵別後華表，那回雙鶴。
相思除是，向醉裏、暫忘卻。
Philological Direct Translation
Rolling up the red pearl-blinds.
Morning rain and light gloom suddenly cease.
Outside the balustrade, misty willows dally with the clear weather, fragrant grasses encroach upon the steps, reflecting red peonies.
East wind envies flowers maliciously.
Blown down.
Tender buds at the twig-tips.
Screen-mountain is masked, aloeswood incense is weary of burning, suffering from wine-hangover, the heart fears cups and ladles.
Recalling the old capital of Luoyang.
Just when young and wildly free, song and laughter were bewitching.
Mud-shield oil-carriages urged combing and sweeping.
Once on the imperial way we rode together, at Shanglin we walked hand in hand, the lantern festival having just passed, early we made our pacts.
Who could believe we would drift in exile.
Desolate.
Thinking of former joys.
Why is face powder faint upon lapels, strings of the zither broken?
Jade branches and jasper moon, spring is just like yesterday.
Lamenting that since parting, at the Huaruo pillars, when do the twin cranes return?
Mutual longing, save for this, is to seek in drunkenness a temporary forgetting.
Morning rain and light gloom suddenly cease.
Outside the balustrade, misty willows dally with the clear weather, fragrant grasses encroach upon the steps, reflecting red peonies.
East wind envies flowers maliciously.
Blown down.
Tender buds at the twig-tips.
Screen-mountain is masked, aloeswood incense is weary of burning, suffering from wine-hangover, the heart fears cups and ladles.
Recalling the old capital of Luoyang.
Just when young and wildly free, song and laughter were bewitching.
Mud-shield oil-carriages urged combing and sweeping.
Once on the imperial way we rode together, at Shanglin we walked hand in hand, the lantern festival having just passed, early we made our pacts.
Who could believe we would drift in exile.
Desolate.
Thinking of former joys.
Why is face powder faint upon lapels, strings of the zither broken?
Jade branches and jasper moon, spring is just like yesterday.
Lamenting that since parting, at the Huaruo pillars, when do the twin cranes return?
Mutual longing, save for this, is to seek in drunkenness a temporary forgetting.