Willows at the portside pavilion hang down their long green arms.
Half drunk is the man standing in the east wind.
Thousands of petals lay resting on a solitary boat,
so as to ferry the beauty of spring south of Yangtze River.
Nothing but a great dream is the world chased.
How many chilly autumns can life taste?
The nightly wind through the trees echoes the corridor.
And I check the shimmering frost on my eyebrow.
Cheap wine often invites fewer guests.
Clouds always lock the bright moon.
Tonight is the Mid-Autumn!
Who is with me sharing the solitary light?
Holding a lantern, I sadly look north.
Sober and drunk again at the Eastern Slope,
I came back at midnight, it seemed.
My houseboy was already snoring like a thunderbolt.
No one responded to my knocking.
Leaning on my staff, I listened to the river whispering.
Regretfully, this body is not mine.
When am I oblivious to yearning?
On this quiet night, with its calm wind and silky waves,
Let me drift away in a small boat,
And relinquish my life to the sea.
When will the spring flowers fade?
When will the autumn moon wane?
How much of the past can I reclaim?
A spring breeze again blew through my attic last night.
Motherland had to be recalled in pain, under the bright moonlight.
The jade inlays of the carved railings should be there intact.
The only change is my look.
How many sorrows can you book?
As many as are carried over by a spring brook.
Quietly, I climbed up the west wing alone.
The moon was like a hook.
A lonely phoenix tree in the deep courtyard
Locked up the crispy autumn.
Sever it, but unbreakable.
Manage it, but more chaotic.
It is the sorrow of parting,
A speical taste,
That I have savoured in my heart.
Regrets! In my dream last night,
I visited the imperial garden again.
Carriages streamed like water,
Horses snorted like dragons.
Beneath the moon
flowers blossomed in the spring breeze.
O bright moon, since when have you come about?
I raise the glass and ask heaven ---
What year is it at the celestial palace?
I wish I could go there with the wind,
Only if the jade-inlaid towers were not so briskly cold.
Hence I dance with my shadow,
as if on the mundane earth.
You have walked around the rosy pavilion,
through the embroidered window panels,
and shined on the sleepless one.
O bright moon, you should not regret it!
Why are you always full when one has to part?
People reunite and depart with joy and sorrow;
You wax and wane in brightness and dimness.
Never has this been satisfying!
I hence wish all my family and friends a long life,
so that we could gaze at the same moon,
despite being a thousand miles apart.
Forest blossoms bid farewell to their spring red.
Too soon! Too soon!
Helplessly came the cold rain of morning,
And the wind of night.
Your rouge tears! The enchanted me!
When shall we meet again?
This life regret goes on,
As long as rivers keep on flowing.
Half the spring has gone by since our parting,
My gaze touches everything in woe.
Plum-blossoms like swirling snow fall down below.
Shake them off, but they cling again, all the more so.
The wild geese return without a word.
A long road leaves the dream of homecoming deferred.
The grass in springtime is my farewell sorrow:
It grows as far as you go.
Forty years since the birth of my motherland,
Over three thousand miles of mountains and rivers she has expanded.
Pavilions carved with phoenixes and dragons soared into the Milky Way.
Lush trees and precious flowers abounded in the imperial garden.
How would I know about the war?
Once surrendered as their captive,
I have pined away, hair greying at the temples.
On that day of panic and devastation,
When I had to part from the ancestral shrine,
The imperial musicians played me a farewell song,
And I shed tears, face-to-face with my concubines and maids.
Listen not to the pitter-patter of the rain pounding the trees.
Why not sing and whistle at an unhurried pace？
Faster than the cavalry are my bamboo staff and sandals.
Who fears it? I shall have lived my life
In a straw cloak against mist and rain.
Sobered up by the spring wind shrill and rather chill,
I am well received by the slanting sun on top of the hill.
Looking back where it never rains but it pours,
Let me return! No more rain and no more shine!