The river’s waves reflect a bent willow,
Unbothered by the darkening sky at dusk.
If this tree can be said to hold a grievance,
Who hasn’t felt the pangs of lost love?
I’m listless and the road home for a traveler is far;
And autumn winds rise after our leave-taking.
One day sporting a young girl’s pearl coiffure,
This morning I dread to look into the mirror bright.

translated by Hsin-sheng C. Kao