I’ve swallowed sobs of the lost dead,
but this live separation is chronic grief.
From the malarial south of the river
no news comes of the exiled traveller,
but you visit my dream, old friend,
knowing I ache for you.
Are you a ghost?
No way to tell with the long road between us.
Your spirit comes through green maple woods,
slips home past darkening border fortresses.
You are caught in the law’s net,
so how can your spirit have wings?
The sinking moon pours onto the rafters
and your face glows in my mind.
The water is deep, the waves are wide.
Don’t let the dragons snatch you!
Translated from Chinese by Tony Barnstone and Chou Ping