I This fleeting life, a waking dream, I sing to my qin by the blossoms' gleam. Let not the east wind wait in v…
I
This fleeting life, a waking dream,
I sing to my qin by the blossoms' gleam.
Let not the east wind wait in vain.
I long for your letters, again and again,
And pray the years are kind and bright.
Though frost now settles in my hair like light,
It is to you I give my spring.
II
I play an old and somber strain,
While crows sit silent in the chilling rain.
My tears have stained the letter red,
I watch the empty skies for words unsaid.
My youth before a shattered mirror wanes,
And every day of yearning adds new pains.
Cursed is this long life, let it be brief instead.