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Return of the Eight: On Parting Amid Autumn Rain
The sparse parasol-trees blow green,
And in the courtyard, the dim rain has suddenly ceased.
For no reason, caught in a place where shadows consume the soul,
I see once more the fireflies dim against the bamboo wall,
And hear the crickets piercing the mossy steps.
Seeing my guest off, I retrace the westward-heading road,
And ask across the rippling surface: who is playing the pipa?
Most regrettable of all: this vast expanse of rivers and mountains
Is handed over entirely to lamentation.
I have always bewailed that our time together was never deep enough;
Why is it now, once more, that we face the autumn wind to part?
The islets are cold, the river mists pale;
The oars sweep the traveler far away,
His distant skiff drifting like a single leaf.
I imagine her, much like Wenjun, gazing out for so long,
Leaning against the bamboo, letting sorrow stir as she paces in silken shoes.
When she returns, we shall drink together from the emerald cups,
Lower the beaded curtains, and leisurely watch the moonlight shimmer.
無端抱影銷魂處,還見筱牆螢暗,蘚階蛩切。
送客重尋西去路,問水面、琵琶誰撥。
最可惜、一片江山,總付與啼。
長恨相從未款,而今何事,又對西風離別。
渚寒煙淡,棹移人遠,縹緲行舟如葉。
想文君望久,倚竹愁生步羅襪。
歸來後、翠尊雙飲,下了珠簾,玲瓏閒看月。
For no reason holding shadow soul-consuming place, still see bamboo wall fireflies dim, mossy steps crickets cutting.
Sending guest again seeking westward going road, asking water surface, pipa who plays.
Most pitiable, a patch of rivers and mountains, totally entrusted to weeping.
Ever regret following each other not intimate, now what matter, again facing west wind parting.
Islets cold smoke pale, oars move people far, floating moving boat like leaf.
Thinking Wenjun gazing long, leaning bamboo sorrow gives birth pacing silk shoes.
Returning after, emerald goblet double drinking, lowering bead curtain, exquisite leisurely watching moon.