Shangguan Wan'er

Wind-rattled phoenix pennons turn brushing through the sky,

Shaggy-hoofed steeds of the horse guard come stamping beams of light.

Mount Li lies sunk in shadow,

jutting beyond the clouds,

While far in the distance the royal tent opens beside the sun.

The very last of winter's three months,

in the years of the Jinglong Reign,

The Prince of Hosts left the River Ba to view the ways of his land.

I see in the distance lightning leap,

dragons are his steeds;

I turn and spy the frosty plain whose fields are all of jade.

Propped on my staff, I looked over wispy peaks,

Then with hazardous pace descended frosty trails.

My goals grew serene the deeper I went in the hills,

I strayed on the path that bent with the mountain stream.

Slowly I sensed detachment in my soul,

And noticed at once how fogs were sinking low.

Be not dismayed I wrote upon that tree

It was because I cherished this hidden rest.

When first leaves fall on Lake Dongting,

I long for you, thousands of miles away.

In heavy dew my scented quilt feels cold,

At moonset, brocade screen deserted.

I would play a Southland melody

And crave to seal a letter to Jibei.

The letter has no other message but

This misery in living long apart.