The gentle breeze has died down.
The perfumed dust has settled.
It is the end of the time
Of flowers. Evening falls
And all day I have been too
Lazy to comb my hair.
The toilet articles are there,
But the man is gone away.
All effort would be wasted.
When I try to sing, my tears
Choke me. I dreamed my flower boat
Carried me to him, but I
Know so fragile a vessel
Won’t bear such a weight of sorrow.
THE POETESS LI CH’ING CHAO