Xu Hun

After the parting song, the boat is set free to glide;

Red leaves on green hills, the rushing river tide.

At day’s end, sobering from wine, I find he’s long gone;

In a sky full of wind and rain, I descend the west tower alone.

I climb the tower — and sorrow, wide as earth, I meet;

The reeds and willows seem an isle where river‑waters beat.

Clouds o’er the stream are born, the sun sinks past the hall;

The mountain‑rain draws near — the tower‑wind foretells its fall.

Birds seek the green‑grown waste, where Qin’s proud gardens lay;

Cicadas cry in leaves that shroud the Han’s decay.

Ask not, O wayfarer, of deeds that time has slain —

The River Wei flows east, and will not turn again.

There's a harp in the midnight playing clear,

While the west wind rustles a green vine;

There's a low cloud touching the jade-white dew

And an early wildgoose in the River of Stars....

Night in the tall trees clings to dawn;

Light makes folds in the distant hills;

And here on the Huai, by one falling leaf,

I can feel a storm on Lake Dongting.

Red leaves are fluttering down the twilight

Past this arbour where I take my wine;

Cloud-rifts are blowing toward Great Flower Mountain,

And a shower is crossing the Middle Ridge.

I can see trees colouring a distant wall.

I can hear the river seeking the sea,

As I the Imperial City tomorrow --

But I dream of woodsmen and fishermen.