Born behind a humble gate of reeds, obscure and poor, I never learned the written word in full. No wondrous fo…
Born behind a humble gate of reeds, obscure and poor,
I never learned the written word in full.
No wondrous form of painting met my eye,
Nor ever reached my ears the wisdom of the sages old.
Dull and unknowing, of little wit,
By error I was brought into the palace halls.
This was no place for common grass to grow,
And so I lived in fear from day to day.
I bear the pain of longing in my heart,
And ten thousand cares for all that is to come.
Alas, these hidden sorrows deepen ever more,
Shut in alone, with no one there to hear.
My thoughts are troubled, desolate, and spent,
And longing winds more tightly still about my chest.
Through the long night I lie and cannot sleep,
My soul unquiet till the edge of dawn.
The wind stirs low on every side,
White frost lies thick along the court.
The sun is dim and gives no warmth,
The air is bitter, clear, and cold.
So laden am I with grief and sorrow
That tears must fall of themselves.
Think of Bo Yu, gentle and dutiful,
Who wore bright robes to delight his parents.
But I lament the cruel sundering of this day,
For now my kin and I are parted like Shen and Chen.
How can the distance between us be called far?
It is not even the span of a few paces.
Yet so cold and strict are the palace walls
That though I long to see them, I find no way.
I lift my eyes to the drifting clouds
And my tears fall, wetting my kerchief through.
Think of Qu Yuan and the grief he bore,
The sorrow of parting that he sang.
And those who wrote of towers and city walls,
Using sun and moon to speak of separation.
How much more bitter for those of one blood,
Now cast apart and cut off from each other.
Long have I carried grief and made my dwelling with sorrow,
Looking to Heaven and weeping tears of blood.
Envoy
Those bound to me by blood, my dearest kin,
Have become as strangers, lost to me afar.
In sorrow and anguish my soul returns in dreams,
And there I see the ones I long for.
But waking in alarm, I cry aloud,
My heart unable to endure the pain,
My tears falling without end.
So I take up the brush and set down all that stirs within me,
And with tears still falling, entrust it to this poem.