The setting sun, west wind, shine on Chu's frontier;
My broken soul mourns this fading face, so drear.
Since the swan and goose flew apart, each alone,
No more mandarin ducks share a pillow, none.
Jade-thin wrists in golden-thread sleeves hang too wide;
Cicada-hairpins, languid, through cloud-tresses glide.
Autumn ends, winter dusk, wind and snow are cold;
Facing the mirror, I'm too tired to fold the gold cicada's hold.
Nightly my dreaming soul reaches your side,
Awake to lonely duck-quilt, none to confide.
Now sitting idle by the gauze window, I sigh,
Holding back tears, with longing, my painted brows draw nigh.
The ancients grieved parting as three autumns long,
I know not how many nights since you've been gone.
Mountains high, waters broad, three thousand miles apart,
Fame and gain make men thus, it grips the heart.
Years ago I plucked Bo Ya's strings with care,
No kindred soul met, yet I'd not blame heaven's air.
Last year I played Sima Xiangru's rhapsody,
At the Han court as before, no chance for me.
People know not the error of a double word,
On calm plains, storms arise in a moment, unheard.
When news from the South Palace came of defeat,
It made me ponder, pestle-like, in my heart's beat.
For you I shed rouge-tears, a crimson flow,
Wetting the duck-quilt in red-curtained bed's glow.
Angrily I tune the lute, cicadas, magpies cry,
Silently I chant poems, Guilin's grief draws nigh.
A thousand tunes, ten thousand plucks, no melody forms,
How can the pent-up breath in my breast weather storms?
A thousand thoughts, ten thousand musings, no verse takes flight,
My heart like dead ashes, who knows its plight?
I guess your heart, in this moment, must be the same,
Serving the state in bustle, idle fields its frame.
Dawn and dusk I watch for your return, in vain,
The sun in east, the moon in west, they remain.
Through azure skies, wild geese in flight pass by,
Green hills hear the cuckoo's piercing cry.
I gaze till month on month has passed away,
No sight, no sound, my heart in knots does stay.
Then I heard you came from east of the river shore,
Nightly I kept red candles burning, evermore.
Cocks crow, dogs bark, I strain my ear to hear,
Silent, no sound of carriage or horse draws near.
Since then I know you have no fixed abode,
My passion cools like water, on this road.
No yellow-eared dog to bring letters home,
You should still send word by wild goose or fish, to roam.
Sun and moon pace on, another year is spent,
Why is your return date still absent?
Silk handkerchiefs are soaked with lovesick tears,
My brows,无心 to paint distant hills, my fears.