The old man from Shao-ling,
weeping inwardly,
Slips out by stealth in spring
and walks by Serpentine,
And on its riverside
sees the locked Palaces,
Young willows and new reeds
all green for nobody;
Where Rainbow Banners once
went through South Gardens,
Gardens and all therein
with merry faces:
First Lady of the Land,
Chao-yang’s chatelaine,
Sits always by her Lord
at board or carriage,
Carriage before which Maids
with bows and arrows
Are mounted on white steeds
with golden bridles;
They look up in the air
and loose together,
What laughter when a pair
of wings drop downward,
What bright eyes and white teeth,
but now where is she?
The ghosts of those by blood
defiled are homeless!
Where limpid River Wei’s
waters flow Eastward,
One goes, the other stays
and has no tidings:
Though Pity, all our hours,
weeping remembers,
These waters and these flowers
remain as ever;
But now brown dusk and horse-
men fill the City,
To gain the City’s South
I shall turn Northward!