At Ch’ang-men, the grass is green,
jade stairs shimmering under dew.

Mist softens the moonlight.
East winds drown a sorrowful flute.

The water clock marks time.
Outside, orioles greet the dawn.

I wake in the night
Grief-stricken, in tears,

exhausted, just exhausted.
My grip crushes my robe.

Once again, my mind settles over you
like dust settles over our scrolls.

translated  by Sam Hamill