LI QINGZHAO

To the Tune of Ru Meng Ling

Last night the rain was light, the wind fierce,

And deep sleep did not dispel the effects of wine.

When I ask the maid rolling up the curtains,

She answers, "The crab-apple blossoms look the same."

I cry, "Can't you see? Can't you see?

The green leaves are fresh but the red flowers are fading!"

To The Tune Of Wu Ling Spring Late Spring

Wind ceased, the dust is scented with fallen flowers.

Though day is getting late, I am too weary

to attend my hair.

Things remain as ever, yet his is here no more,

and all is finished.

Fain wound I speak, but tar flow first.

They say that at the Twin Brooks spring is still fiar.

I, too, wish to row a boat there.

But I am afraid that the little skiff

on the Twin Brooks

Could not bear the heavy load of my grief.

To The Tune Of To Rouge The Lips

Lonely in my secluded chamber,

A thousand sorrows fill every inch

of my sensitive being.

Regretting that spring has so soon passed,

That rain drops have hastened the falling flowers,

I lean over the balustrade,

Weary and depressed.

Where is my beloved?

Only the fading grassland

stretches endlessly toward the horizon;

Anxiously I watch the road for your return.