Yan Shu

On the pavilion,same day,same weather,

you'd left me without sound,now afterglow floated,

i wrote a new song,prepared a grape wine.

Nothing could return like those fallen flowers,

it seemed that i saw you in this cherry field.

wandered my soul with the wind in singing of pink petals.

Flowers are endless, willows beyond count;

They share my feelings, I dare vow.

Drain a boat-shaped cup of wine at one draught!

Where can we not meet somehow?

Red strings are mute,

Few are the connoisseurs.

If Heaven had a heart, it would turn old.

Look at the fame-and-gain world, I’m told:

A dream both past and present, dim and cold.

When swallows are ready to go,

Last night the west wind blew on the tower high.

We’ve managed to meet on earth below,

And drink by chrysanthemums with cup of gold.

Long songs we sing with faces rosy and bold.

The setting sun peeps through the screen;

A light chill penetrates plane trees green.

How many feelings can’t be told

Are written in the song on paper fine.

This feeling weighs thousands of tons in my mind.

Snow veils mume blooms, mist clings to willow boughs,

Spring’s first whispers stir the air.

Wild geese depart, orioles yet unseen—

Emerald pools ripple without a care.

We pluck flowers, keep guests drunk with wine,

Reliving last year’s tender cheer.

Golden cups brim, incense curls from jade,

While the crimson sun lingers, slow and dear.

The east wind blows willow trees green;

Light mist parts after rain, the sky’s serene.

Annoyed by her sweet sleep in fragrant bower,

The orioles warble at the morning hour.

Her eyebrows fine,

Her waist like a vine,

She wears last night’s attire.

Spring’s sweet desire,

The breeze of March so warm,

All waken love’s alarm.

When swallows come, Spring Rites hail.

As pear blooms fade, Pure Brights wail.

The pool grows mosses tinged green.

The leaves hide orioles that keen.

Days longer, catkins soft flying. 

Smiling east vill girls greeting

on th’ mulberry picking way.

A nice dream they had last night?

They won th’ “Name Herbs” game today!

Smiles on the cheeks growing just bright.

Next to groves of trees wind labyrinthine balustrades,

In the breeze willows their golden strands spread.

Who can tune up the strings along the jadeite zither neck?

Off flit a pair of petrels through the drapes.

Before my eyes catkins fall and willow sprigs sway,

Apricot trees blooming red and a spell of drizzle the vernal equinox manifest.

From a deep slumber I wake as orioles tweets and chirps make,

Startling and shattering sweet dreams that I know not where to locate.

On the sea aquamarine with no billows there is a path to the celestial terrace,

We should be able to there fly towards as a pair if our hearts so wish.

Once I left behind rashly the object of my affections,

Now being mountains and waters apart I know not where she is.

A dusty, delicately woven mat remains in the bed chamber lightly veiled by mist,

On whom could I rely to bring you a crimson note in small script?

On a tall building I look into the distance and see the day drawing to a close,

As a whistling drizzle rustles the leafage of phoenix trees.

Along the path flowers are thinning, the countryside is fields of green,

Next to raised buildings becoming thick is the foliage dense with leaves.

Vernal breezes know not how to catkins restrain,

Allowing them to scatter on faces of passers-by like misty mizzle.

Behind verdant leaves orioles hide, swallows rest outside crimson screens,

Over the incense burner curls of smoke one another quietly seek.

After I have slept off intoxication in a melancholy dream,

The private court has come well under sunset's gleams.

A farewell song was sung, on a gallery a parting banquet took place,

As I looked back, dust with a flowery air had already us separated.

Among the woods she stood, her horse neighed,

Off I rowed following the turn of waves.

Depressed is my soul in an ornate pavilion up on high, still severed is my gaze.

There is only sunset sending off ripples far and away.

Perpetual and pervasive without end is my parting sorrow,

As expansive as the sky and the earth is my yearning that pervades.

The pond water is green and the breeze light and genial,

They remind me of the first time I saw her face.

Her singing of the Repetition was like the ringing of jade,

Her dance to the Cleaving symphony whirled petals around her waist.

Outside the raised delicate curtains, below the balustrade by the stairs,

Drunk I am, unaware that the sun has set and the time is late.

Of those that I admired the blossoms with,

Only fewer than half still alive remain.

Autumnal winds soughingly sough,

Leaf by leaf phoenix trees its foliage drop.

A light savour of fermented barely wine can easily intoxicate,

Resting my head by a window I fall into a deep slumber.

Purple rosebushes and red roses of Sharon shrivel and wilt,

The setting sun on balustrades shines still.

The season has come for paired swallows to make their return,

Last night behind the silvery screen I felt a slight chill.

The pale moon shadow moves past the yard's phoenix tree,

On this night the sojourner alone is sad as sad could be;

The Moon Goddess Chang-e must have the same feeling:

She has only toad and osmanthus to keep her company.

When swallows come,we worship gods of spring;

Then flowers fall,we mourn for the dear dead.

We hear,amid the leaves,the orioles sing;

Beside the pool we see the green moss spread.

The willow catkins fly as the day's lengthening.

My neighbour's daughter and her friends are sweet,

Mulberry leaves to gather now they meet.

Last night,she wonders,why such happy dreams?

They foretell that she wins the game of grass,it seems.

A sparkling smile upon her fair face beams.

On the path grass grows,you dump me

under the green poplar tree.

The sound of bells in temple awakens my dream,

my yearning to you is like this rain in March.

People never know how sad i am

unless they truly fall in love with someone.

The world always has a end i can reach,

but your sweet smiles in my dreams i just can't touch.

like the lavender,we only have the short life,

love or hatred,we just sink into the grief.

This parting feast,girl,toast to our dying love.

Hill and river,that's just too faraway,

fallen petals in the rain,do you know why i stay?

Past is past,girl,just sniff the rosemary which's near you.

In the morning orchid weeps in the fence,

dewy weather,i wear the shirt to walk on the forest.

Sparrows fly away.

The moonshine doesn't know my sorrow,

just shines on my courtyard,yellow as her hairs.

Last night blue daisies faded in the west wind,

blue rain,i ascended the attic to see if she comes here?

Sparrows quietly stayed.

I tried to sent my love letter to that girl,

but i just don't know where she's meandering.

I write my love letter on the red silk,

try to tell how i'm enamored by you.

Wild geese in the sky,golden fish in water,

who could help me to send my whisper?

Under the sunset lean on the western attic,

the hills which embrace the stream are so blue.

I have no idea where you are now,

just listen to the streamwater quietly flows.