A winding stream, four hills embrace the scene;
By the stream, willows hide the gate and screen.
Back then, a jade beauty stood beneath the flowers,
Her lovely face outshone the blooming bowers.
A pair of white jades could not be my bride,
She promised me a phoenix ride.
In youth, my spirit sharp and keen,
I boasted my brush could stir waves unseen.
I thought to ride the spring breeze to the sky,
And share pure joy until we die.
I knew not the toil to pass the test,
Would show the rugged road's unrest.
Like duckweed rootless, drifting free,
For two decades, by rivers and lakes I'd be.
In late years, I entered the palace gate,
Where tigers and leopards guard, filled with hate.
I stumbled from the sky and fell to ground,
A boat on spring waves, homeward bound.
The cloud carriage soon left me alone,
Her jade bones buried 'neath a hill of stone.
Returning to the stream, all changed I see,
In sorrow, her brows I no longer see.
Where are Queen Mother and Mago now?
A hundred years, like dew on a bough.
My old self, my eldest son, deep love we share,
Not for the face that flowers once did wear.
Flowers fade but bloom again next year,
When will the jade beauty reappear?
Now she is gone, flowers too are spent,
All day I pace, with discontent.
Can rivers ever westward flow?
All time rolls on, the same way go.
Too painful to recall and think anew,
Her parting words still ring so true.
In Shu, a phoenix seeks its mate in vain,
In Qin, no crow shares nest again.
Years come and go, spring turns to cold,
This life ends, but feelings hold.
A stream of clear tears will not cease,
From four hills, mournful winds increase.
Only the old man grows more strong,
Past ninety, like a frosty pine long.
You are my mother's brother, dear,
And my wife's father, held so near.
We wipe our tears, greet and console,
Stop the cart, let our talk unroll.
Grief is useless, yet I can't refrain,
For now, let wine ease heart's pain.
Next year, if strong, I'll visit anew,
Before you, drink pearl-red brew.