 | The works of Li Po, the Chinese poet |  |
153
[OMITTED]
106. TWO LETTERS FROM CHANG-KAN—II
(Another river-merchant's wife writes)
I lived in my maiden bower,
Unaware of all things of the world.
Since married to you of Chang-kan town,
I wander the river bank to spy the weather.
In May the south wind blows,
I think of you sailing down to Pa-ling;
In August the west wind arises,
And I know you will part from Yangtzu.
You come and go, I sorrow ever,
Seeing you so little, and living so much apart.
When will you arrive at Hsiang-tan?
My dream goes over the wind-tossed waves.
Last night a storm went past in fury,
Tearing down trees on the riverside,
Spreading darkness without end—
Where were you, then, poor traveler?
Would I could ride the swift-drifting cloud,
And meet you in good time east of Orchid Beach!
Unaware of all things of the world.
Since married to you of Chang-kan town,
I wander the river bank to spy the weather.
In May the south wind blows,
I think of you sailing down to Pa-ling;
In August the west wind arises,
And I know you will part from Yangtzu.
You come and go, I sorrow ever,
Seeing you so little, and living so much apart.
When will you arrive at Hsiang-tan?
My dream goes over the wind-tossed waves.
Last night a storm went past in fury,
Tearing down trees on the riverside,
Spreading darkness without end—
Where were you, then, poor traveler?
Would I could ride the swift-drifting cloud,
And meet you in good time east of Orchid Beach!
Oh, the happy pair of mandarin-ducks among the
reed,
And the purple kingfishers, embroidered on the gold screen!
Why at fifteen years and little more,
My face pink like the peach flower,
Have I become a river merchant's wife,
To grieve over winds and grieve again over waves!
And the purple kingfishers, embroidered on the gold screen!
Why at fifteen years and little more,
My face pink like the peach flower,
154
To grieve over winds and grieve again over waves!
| The works of Li Po, the Chinese poet | |