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Changgan Ballad: I
English Poetic Translation
My hair hung freshly down my brow,
I played before the door with flowers.
You rode a bamboo horse to bow,
And tossed green plums through youthful hours.
We dwelt in Changgan side by side,
Two children, free of doubt and fear.
At fourteen I became your bride,
Too shy to lift my veil, my dear.
I hung my head toward the wall,
And would not turn for any call.
At fifteen I unbent my brow,
And vowed to be your dust and clay,
To hold the faith of ancient vow,
Nor scale the watcher's height astray.
At sixteen you set out afar,
Beyond the dangerous Qutang tide,
Where roaring reefs and waters are,
And weeping gibbons pierce the skies.
Before our door the prints you left
Are covered thick with emerald moss;
The autumn winds sweep through the cleft,
And fallen leaves declare our loss.
The deep green moss cannot be swept,
The butterflies in pairs appear;
I sit alone where vows were kept,
And watch my rosy youth grow sear.
Oh, when you sail the gorges down,
Send word ahead to reach our home;
I'll walk to greet you past the town,
To Changfeng Sands I'll gladly roam.
I played before the door with flowers.
You rode a bamboo horse to bow,
And tossed green plums through youthful hours.
We dwelt in Changgan side by side,
Two children, free of doubt and fear.
At fourteen I became your bride,
Too shy to lift my veil, my dear.
I hung my head toward the wall,
And would not turn for any call.
At fifteen I unbent my brow,
And vowed to be your dust and clay,
To hold the faith of ancient vow,
Nor scale the watcher's height astray.
At sixteen you set out afar,
Beyond the dangerous Qutang tide,
Where roaring reefs and waters are,
And weeping gibbons pierce the skies.
Before our door the prints you left
Are covered thick with emerald moss;
The autumn winds sweep through the cleft,
And fallen leaves declare our loss.
The deep green moss cannot be swept,
The butterflies in pairs appear;
I sit alone where vows were kept,
And watch my rosy youth grow sear.
Oh, when you sail the gorges down,
Send word ahead to reach our home;
I'll walk to greet you past the town,
To Changfeng Sands I'll gladly roam.
Classical Chinese & Pinyin
妾髮初覆額，折花門前劇。
郎騎竹馬來，遶牀弄青梅。
同居長幹裏，兩小無嫌猜。
十四爲君婦，羞顏尚不開。
低頭向暗壁，千喚不一迴。
十五始展眉，願同塵與灰。
常存抱柱信，豈上望夫臺。
十六君遠行，瞿塘灩預堆。
五月不可觸，猨鳴天上哀。
門前遲行跡，一一生綠苔。
苔深不能掃，落葉秋風早。
八月蝴蝶來，雙飛西園草。
感此傷妾心，坐愁紅顏老。
早晚下三巴，預將書報家。
相迎不道遠，直至長風沙。
郎騎竹馬來，遶牀弄青梅。
同居長幹裏，兩小無嫌猜。
十四爲君婦，羞顏尚不開。
低頭向暗壁，千喚不一迴。
十五始展眉，願同塵與灰。
常存抱柱信，豈上望夫臺。
十六君遠行，瞿塘灩預堆。
五月不可觸，猨鳴天上哀。
門前遲行跡，一一生綠苔。
苔深不能掃，落葉秋風早。
八月蝴蝶來，雙飛西園草。
感此傷妾心，坐愁紅顏老。
早晚下三巴，預將書報家。
相迎不道遠，直至長風沙。
Philological Direct Translation
My hair first covered the forehead,
Gathering flowers, at the door I played.
You came riding a bamboo horse,
Around the bed, playing with green plums.
Together we dwelt in Changgan lane,
Both young, without suspicion or doubt.
At fourteen I became your wife,
Bashful face still not unfolding.
Lowering my head toward the dark wall,
A thousand calls, not a single turn back.
At fifteen I began to smooth my brows,
Wishing to be dust and ashes with you.
Ever keeping the embrace-pillar faith,
How could I climb the husband-watching terrace?
At sixteen you journeyed far away,
Qutang Gorge and the Yanyu Stacks.
In the fifth month, impossible to touch,
Gibbons wail, in the heavens grief.
Before the gate, the lingering footsteps,
One by one, green moss grows.
Moss too deep to sweep away,
Fallen leaves, autumn wind comes early.
In the eighth month butterflies arrive,
Pair-flying in the western garden grass.
Moved by this, it wounds my heart,
Sitting and sorrowing, my rosy face ages.
Soon or late descending the Three Gorges,
Send ahead a letter to notify home.
Meeting each other, I will not call it far,
Right up to Changfeng Sands.
Gathering flowers, at the door I played.
You came riding a bamboo horse,
Around the bed, playing with green plums.
Together we dwelt in Changgan lane,
Both young, without suspicion or doubt.
At fourteen I became your wife,
Bashful face still not unfolding.
Lowering my head toward the dark wall,
A thousand calls, not a single turn back.
At fifteen I began to smooth my brows,
Wishing to be dust and ashes with you.
Ever keeping the embrace-pillar faith,
How could I climb the husband-watching terrace?
At sixteen you journeyed far away,
Qutang Gorge and the Yanyu Stacks.
In the fifth month, impossible to touch,
Gibbons wail, in the heavens grief.
Before the gate, the lingering footsteps,
One by one, green moss grows.
Moss too deep to sweep away,
Fallen leaves, autumn wind comes early.
In the eighth month butterflies arrive,
Pair-flying in the western garden grass.
Moved by this, it wounds my heart,
Sitting and sorrowing, my rosy face ages.
Soon or late descending the Three Gorges,
Send ahead a letter to notify home.
Meeting each other, I will not call it far,
Right up to Changfeng Sands.