A Soldier's Farewell to His Wife
My dear wife, you and I have been as one,
No doubt has marred the faith, which love has won,
Our chief desire throughout the married state
Has been of love and joy to give and take.
But now, alas! the Joy of Spring departs,
And sorrow's shafts must enter both our hearts;
I cannot sleep; I must arise and see
The time; ah, me, how quick the hours so flee!
Awake, my dearest, for the stars have set,
The grief of parting must be bravely met;
And yet the dreary marches weight my mind;—
As though defiles and desert plains they wind.
And then, at last the awful battle-field,
Where I must fight and naught to foemen yield;
But, oh! the bitter, paralyzing pain—
To think that we may never meet again!
I must let fall the long restrained tears
As, clasping hand, you calm my anxious fears;
If not, my heart will break with sighs repressed
To hear your love so tenderly confessed.
But courage, we will think of Young Love's day,
And all the pleasures which therein did stay;
And this shall cheer me on the toilsome road,
And help you here to bear your weary load.
Then with what joy we shall renew our life,
When I return safe from the dreadful strife;
But if, alas! the Fates should death decree,
My spirit will for ever live with thee.
Listening to the Lyre of a Monk Named Jun
This monk with his lyre came from the land of Shu
In the west, from the high Emei Mountains.
Plucking the strings, he played for me.
I heard murmuring pines in many valleys.
Like flowing water, the music cleansed my heart,
Leaving its echo in the frosty bell.
Dusk came unnoticed to these green hills,
As the autumn clouds grew darker and darker.
Hearing Bamboo Flute Playing from Yellow Tower with Mr. Shi Qin, an ImperialGovernment Official and a Friend of Mine
Once demoted and sent away from Chang'an to Changsha,
I can no longer see the Capital where I have lived.
Someone's playing a fine bamboo flute in Yellow Crane Tower,
Which makes me feel sad and chilly though it's Jiangcheng's summer.