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Slow Fragrance of Purple Cornel: Near the Double Ninth Festival
Yet how precious is this day's sudden, radiant glow.
I ask if autumn's fragrance has deepened yet,
And plan to take companions beyond the western wall.
My traveler's heart already brims with grief,
Dreading the lonely height of the ruined terrace,
Where feelings overwhelm the soul.
Before the wine cup, once more I yearn for him
Who poured libations and wove blossoms in our hair;
Yet at our gathering, the veteran comrades are gone.
Bitter desolation.
Drifting into light intoxication, then snapping awake.
Sorrow refuses to be soothed by verse.
I recall galloping steeds along the autumn avenues,
Carved bows and broken willows—let past days rest.
A single spray of purple cornel was once bestowed;
Whose dream now wanders among the imperial Han tombs?
Let this black official cap drift away on the wind,
So Heaven may witness hair grown frosted as stars.
The song ends, and tears silently fall.
問秋香濃未,待攜客、出西城。
正自羈懷多感,怕荒臺高處,更不勝情。
向尊前、又憶灑酒插花人。
只座上、已無老兵。
悽情。
淺醉還醒。
愁不肯、與詩平。
記長楸走馬,雕弓笮柳,前事休評。
紫萸一枝傳賜,夢誰到、漢家陵。
盡烏紗、便隨風去,要天知道,華髮如此星星。
歌罷涕零。
Asking if autumn fragrance is thick yet, waiting to lead guests, out the western city.
Just as my traveler's breast has many emotions, fearing the desolate terrace's high places, even more unable to bear the feeling.
Facing the goblet before, again remembering the one who sprinkled wine and inserted flowers.
Only at the seat, already there are no old soldiers.
Desolate sentiment.
Lightly drunk yet waking.
Sorrow is unwilling, to be leveled with poetry.
Remembering Changqiu galloping horses, carved bows snapping willows, past matters do not discuss.
One branch of purple cornel passed as a bestowal, whose dream reaches, the Han house tombs.
Let the black gauze cap, then follow the wind away, wanting Heaven to know, gray hair is thus sparkling like stars.
Song finished tears fall.