LI HSUN

(855–930)

To the Tune:

The Wine Spring

Eternal autumn rain—evening sounds

die out among the dying lotuses.

How can she bear to listen?

Wine has muddied her thinking.

And yet her thoughts continue like rain

after the candle has guttered,

after the incense burned.

—Almost at dawn,

when the misty rain is coldest,

it steals in through her screen.

§

To the Tune:

The Wine Spring

Rain falls on fallen flowers

perfuming the edge of the pond

where she grieves through long separation.

When the song closes,

she closes her silver screen.

Night and day, sailboats leave for Ch’u.

In her pain, she tunes her lute.

The melody carries her grief,

and words vibrate in the strings,

words she cannot bear to sing.

§