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Thin Fortune: Late Spring in the Green Chambers
The day drags on in silence; I groom my hair, yet listless grow.
Sudden sounds—crows cawing, orioles weaving song—
awake a boundless, rising tide of newborn grief.
I call to mind those vanished years, when hearts in spring
were cast in secret, glimpsed through mist and blossoms from afar.
We propped our heads on horn-inlaid pillows, writing verse,
and pawned our golden hairpins just to buy more wine,
getting drunk together deep within the moss-green courtyard.
How could I ever let slip from my mind
the winding corridor where hands once linked,
beneath bright blossoms and the brimming autumn moon?
And now? Only evening rain,
bees heavy with sorrow, butterflies nursing old regrets,
while I sit by the small window, idly watching plantain leaves unfold.
Who is there left to care or check my steps?
In utter silence, I strum the zheng strings idly,
while tears drench the uneven bridges like passing geese.
My waist grows ever slender day by day,
my drifting heart wandering far with the wind-blown willow down.
晝寂寂、梳勻又懶。
乍聽得、鴉啼鶯弄,惹起新愁無限。
記年時、偷擲春心,花間隔霧遙相見。
便角枕題詩,寶釵貰酒,共醉青苔深院。
怎忘得、迴廊下,攜手處、花明月滿。
如今但暮雨,蜂愁蝶恨,小窗閒對芭蕉展。
卻誰拘管。
盡無言、閒品秦箏,淚滿參差雁。
腰支漸小,心與楊花共遠。
Day is desolate, hair combing and smoothing again lazy.
Suddenly hearing, crows caw orioles play, stir up new sorrows without bound.
Remembering past years, stealthily casting spring heart, among flowers separated by mist distantly seeing each other.
Then horn pillow composing poetry, golden hairpins pawning for wine, together getting drunk in green moss deep courtyard.
How can one forget, under the winding corridor, place of holding hands, flowers bright moon full.
Now only evening rain, bees sorrow butterflies regret, small window idly facing plantain leaves unrolling.
Yet who restrains or manages?
Completely without words, idly playing the zheng of Qin, tears full of uneven wild geese.
Waist branches gradually growing small, heart with poplar catkins together distant.