Wet rain and soft breeze by turns
Have just broken
And driven away the chill.
Moist as pussy willows,
Light as the plum blossoms,
Already I feel the heart of Spring vibrating.
But now who will share with me
The joys of wine and poetry?
Tears streak my rouge.
My hairpins are too heavy.
I put on my new quilted robe
Sewn with gold thread
And throw myself against a pile of pillows,
Crushing my phoenix hairpins.
Alone, all I can embrace is my endless sorrow.
I know a good dream will never come.
So I stay up past midnight
Trimming the lamp flower’s smoking wick.

translated by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung