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Looking Toward the Xiang River: Gazing at the Xiang River
and floral scents stirring the silken screens,
my drunken soul and sorrowful dreams divide the night.
My coverlet still holds a fading trace of perfume,
my girdle-sash startles at its slackened length.
How endlessly we grieve the late departure of spring!
The spotted bamboo bears fresh tears of sorrow,
the gathered orchids lose their autumn scent,
while the skies above the Xiang grow close and warm.
I recall the winding river, those nights of moonlight and wind,
when we pledged our excursions like fairy consorts.
We must believe how easily the phoenix lute snaps in two,
yet who can touch the zheng strings once again?
The song is finished, and you are far away.
I trace your silken shoes leaving no footprints here,
at the shallow, clear waters where we used to play.
The jade-prowed boat moors by the white duckweed shore,
near the soaring towers framed by towering trees.
Yet you cannot send me even a single word of longing,
leaving only returning swallows to share my solitude.
被惜餘薰,帶驚剩眼。
幾許傷春春晚。
淚竹痕鮮,佩蘭香老,湘天濃暖。
記小江、風月佳時,屢約非煙遊伴。
須信鸞弦易斷。
奈雲和再鼓,曲終人遠。
認羅襪無蹤,舊處弄波清淺。
青翰棹艤,白蘋洲畔。
盡木臨皋飛觀。
不解寄、一字相思,幸有歸來雙燕。
flower breaths move curtain,
drunken soul and sorrowful dream half and half.
Coverlet cherishes remaining fragrance,
sash startles at leftover length.
How much mourning spring as spring late.
Teardrop bamboo marks fresh,
worn orchid fragrance aged,
Xiang sky dense and warm.
Remembering small river,
wind and moon fine times,
frequently appointing Feiyan roaming companion.
You must believe luan lute strings easily snap.
Yet how to play zheng zither again,
tune ended person distant.
Recognize silk socks without trace,
old place playing waves clear and shallow.
Green feathered oar docks,
white duckweed islet side.
All wood at Lingao flying pavilion.
Unable to send,
one character mutual longing,
fortunately there are returning pair of swallows.