Yan Jidao

South of the main streets catkins drift over greening trees,

Like snow they fall all over spring excursion paths.

Blossoms on trees are glamorous and the clouds light,

Under the foliage of trees is an established estate with a crimson gateway.

From its northern loft, where the curtains are raised high,

Directly in sight are the trees south of the main streets

Against the balustrade in her languor she lingers,

There fall a few evening showers.

In previous years late in spring, he used to rest his horse stamping on mosses,

By a tree of dense foliage and long he there stood.

Here fallen blossoms remain, half extended is the delicate screen hiding view,

Where has the familiar face disappeared to?

What happened in the parting, in my cups

in the west building, I cannot remember, waking

from a drunk sleep.

Dreams in the spring,

Clouds in the autumn.

It is easy to meet, and to part too.

The moon slanting through the window,

I lie sleepless. The pained screen

unfolds, at its leisure,

the verdant southern mountains.

The wine-stains on the clothes,

the words in the poem, line

upon line, drop after drop,

all speak of melancholy.

Even the red candle feels helpless,

in the cold night, shedding tears

for me, in vain.

I love the shadow of balustrade in the river

when the lotus flowers bloom.

She's shy to learn the singing of nightingale,

dance like an angel,spread the deadly fragrance.

Mist rain wets on my shoulder,

grass and violets are growing everywhere.

Whom could i pick up fallen petals with?

last year we were so happy,now only i'm watching the butterflies.

Early spring the snow hasn't thawed,

the little buds have sprouted.

On the old pond where mist surrounds willow trees,

i pluck a plum flower in the light rain.

Cuckoos cry their heart out to redden

this beautiful promise land.

How could i distinguish which dream or reality is,

seeing you kiss me,i just couldn't believe this's all true.

I always dreamed that blue hill,

you haven't sent me letter for a long.

My long hairs turned white

because of yearning you every evening.

Back to the green silky window,

wanna tell how i have a rave on him.

Being parting is really sad,

he embraced me tight in my dream.

That year you poured the wine for me,

i drank until my face turned crimson.

You danced on the moonshine like the ripples,

the wind blew the cherry petals off and fell on your hairs.

After we left,i've been missing you so bad,

How many times i see you in the dream i don't remember.

Tonight hold i the candle to gaze your tearful face,

how stupid i am that still fear it's only a dream i wished for.

In the dream,the red door of your home was closed.

after i woke up,beady curtains cover the scenery outside.

but i still remember how it looked at the day you left.

Stand alone i in the fallen cherry flowers,

fly both swallows in the misty spring rain.

Recall to the first date with you under the cherry tree,

you wore a blue shirt with a heart-shaped picture.

Now i play the lyre to confess how i feel about you.

That year,the bright moonshine and you came here,

until now,i still yearn the shadow of yours under the moonshine.