What can melt a traveler’s grief?
Opening your letter I see the words in your fine hand.

Rain sprinkles a thousand peaks,
Tartar winds bleach ten thousand leaves.

Morning, word by word, I see the light blue jade;
Evening, page by page, I hum beneath my quilt.

I hide this letter in a scented box,
And when I’m sad, I take it out again.

translated by Geoffrey Waters