"Ballad of the Bitter Wife" Part I: The Story Is No Story, the Bitter Wife No Bitter Wife — How Many Can Understand

2006/3/6 11:27:24

I

Autumn dew, autumn dew — autumn gone, winter come, hard to stay.
Stars bright, stars dim, mist congeals; from three places, four, birds sing.
Singing birds, singing birds — idle sorrows, ten thousand kinds, no end.
"Tiao Xiao Ling"

II

Moon before the window, alone it climbs the willow tips.
Night still, wind comes, stirring thoughts anew; autumn cool, embers die, longing to look back.
Outside the door, a konghou sounds.
"Meng Jiangnan"

III

Wind — toying with shadows, scattering fragrance east of the pavilion.
At leisure one lingers; dew wets the paper lotus.
"Shiliu Zi Ling"

IV

Spring wind chases dreams, washing the spring city clean; green dyes the spring river, willows fresh and keen. Everywhere spring blossoms, everywhere birds sing. Into the spring pavilion — in dreams, a fading sun clears after snow.
"Yi Wang Sun"

V

Fallen petals softly tell of slanting sun at dusk; blue waves tenderly entwine, deep sorrows confide.
Cloud-like tresses — for whom adorned? Three springs, the swallows come.

Thoughts sent along the blue-snow road; shadows tangled — who can trace the former path?
Heart languid, regret won't turn; cold stove, jade mirror stand.
"Pusa Man"

VI

Apricot cheeks sallow, lone pillow in regret — as if rouge and powder wilt in gloom.
Crows escort the sun; eyes mourn with grief; drowsy sleep as silken rain arrives.

Fading green tresses, pale rouge and powder — bathed forth, a thousand peaks wasted thin.
Flowers sprinkle tears, the zither stand in disarray — seeing spring, grief beyond bearing.
"Geng Lou Zi"

VII

Heartbreak begins, boundless regret — only sighing that spring stays far.
In fading light, evening clouds part — startled by swallows returning.

Spring sheds tears, the old pavilion; fragrant tresses, rosy face — dimly fading.
Still like a dream, dripping on empty stairs; deep into the night, regret uncut.
"Geng Lou Zi"

VIII

Clouds drift at sky's edge, frost-shadows scatter; watch-drums, wind blows them apart.
At Ba Bridge, one parting — willows of a thousand threads; dripping green, swaying blue — spring like jade curtains hanging.

Passion-drunk, quiet dreams drift in wisps; fragrant paths lie across the lonely inn.
Counting the dusty waves — departure was not late; yet how to bear the red sorrow, oriole tears, envy of arched brows?
"Yu Meiren"

IX

Languid, idle — failing the spring light; flowers bloom, one wakes too late.
Petal by petal unfurling on the bough, all turned to autumn-song laments.

More hateful still, the east wind blows unceasing; at dawn, rain-threads coil, tugging sorrows into tangles.
Departed dreams — when did they ever reach the heavens? Tree after tree, mountain after mountain, seen.
"Gan Cao Zi"

X

Tidying faded rouge, not for spring; the early sun, languid, teasing.
Ten thousand peach trees bloom again today — at the ferry of farewell.

Idly tearing the east wind to shreds — half tossed to flowing water, half to clouds.
Tear-filled eyes — how can they bear to see again the traces of old times?
"Tanpo Huan Xi Sha"

XI

Standing by Blue Bridge, a lake of lovesick water, ripples layered in waves.
Distant mountains clustered with clouds; spring sun languid as a flush of wine.
Misty red, shadowed green — in pretty pairs, swallows chat, orioles sing.
Morning to night, chanting to flowers, laughing at willows; jade robes, bright eyes weaving through.

Ten years of sorrow, bewilderment, obsession, resentment — given to cold years and frigid seasons, not for love's abundance.
In this world, who thinks of me? Tears provoked into rivers.
Shooting stars trailing the moon, regret without shore — vainly hurling branches skyward.
Cold rain splashes, sudden gusts arise; the dusty world — frantic ants, startled tadpoles.
"Han Gong Chun"

XII

Sorrow entwines like silk, cherishing each parting moment.
Wild wind withers every blossomed bough; night wanes, painted brows droop low.

Again today, crows cry beneath the moon, dimly skimming past the shore.
Plum Creek, homeland dreams in an exquisite place — only, the one awaited has not returned.
"Hudie Er"

XIII

Brilliant, brilliant — flowers as before; curving, winding, one stream clear.
Pale clouds drifting in the clearing evening sky; white birds fluttering beyond the curtain, singing with delight.

Raising wine with no one beside me; tuning strings, tears already fall.
Lifting my brows — what thing does not stir feeling? Wind through leaves, rustling, suddenly the sound of old autumn.
"Nan Ge Zi"

XIV

Wind stills, the moon knits its brow; stars splash across the Milky Way.
Dreams locked in the high tower, regret already spent; night blanches, fading red and green.

Across the jade sea, rushing toward an old vow; cold mist, clear as tears.
Briefly moored on cloud-sand, asking the shadow of plum blossoms; brushing the face — emptily facing each other.
"Bu Suan Zi"

XV

Window dust seals shut; bamboo shadows brush the fragrant chamber.
The moon appears after clouds part in the azure sky; flowers drift in the deep courtyard when dreams return.
A white bird crosses the southern pond.
"Meng Jiangnan"

XVI

The water clock drips; the moon tilts with frost.
From the high tower, wind plays the flute, blowing down the scent of small plum blossoms.
Wind and frost cannot whiten what sorrow has already bleached; once I leaned on vermilion railings through a thousand endless nights.
"Jiangnan Chun"

XVII

Lone lamp — do not recall those days; the high terrace frosted dark, stars droop to earth.
Cuckoo's call, note by note, so cold; dreams wither, flower-shadows fade.

Osmanthus seeds, falling, falling — drifting down into the Milky Way.
Drunk on a magnolia boat; wind blows blood across the sky.
"Pusa Man"

XVIII

Swallows dart through on the slant; apricot blossoms at the tips.
From the red tower, evening wind and sun blow the flute; wine fades, but feeling does not fade.

Brows in disarray, green mountains thin; spring sorrow drifts with the rain.
Longing cannot mend the rending in my gut — it turns to blue fire, burning.
"Hudie Er"

XIX

Not leaning on the west tower's waning moon — grief beyond measure, more afraid of the fifth-watch wind.
Through the window, dreams sway, stirring the soul cold; on a lone pillow, always hard to sleep.

Cursing the neighbor's rooster that urges dawn — vexation — sitting in a daze till the sun is three poles high.
Two lines of clear tears soak through a thin gown, drop by drop from the tip of my heart.
"He Ye Bei"

XX

Weary willows trailing sorrow, empty waves carrying regret; at evening, stifling rain steams into threads.
At cloud's edge and sand's margin, dimly, a pair of swallows return.
Shoreline grass, faintly red and darkly mingled; wind-blown catkins, pleating the water's patterned garment.
Clinging flower-scent — seeking fragrance, one sees only specks scattered in the deep mud.

Longing —
guts torn to shreds; spring fades again — past days, present time.
Sighing over a cold soul, a solitary shadow; bones chilled, heart desolate.
Painted chambers, high towers — hard to lean upon; a silver hairpin drops; broken dreams, the endless dyke.
Where to ask — year after year, blooming and fading — truly, for whose sake?
"Man Ting Fang"

XXI

Clouds stitched, mist woven; the moon sinks, the Milky Way is lost.
Toward dawn the east wind grows weaker still — no word of apricot blossoms sent.

Dreams done, a pillow of green frost; cold stove, half a wisp of lingering incense.
Suddenly remembering where the orchid boat was moored — scattered petals now fill the pond.
"Qing Ping Yue"

XXII

The orchid boat carries shadows; a crescent moon, faint at the cloud's edge.
Rippling water — three or four cold stars.
Unlike a parting lover's teardrops, yet silently diminishing the wind's spirit.

Already numb.
Who grieves in such darkness alone?
A frost-flying flute strikes liver and gall.
Afraid the heart is captured by longing once again.
Turning the oar, startled back — lotuses dance in disarray; suddenly, a lotus wrinkles its face.
"Dan Huang Liu"

XXIII

Feeling, like flowing water, rushes away; moonlight pierces the high boughs.
Dew cold on a thin gown; empty catkins before the courtyard chase dreams in flight.

Drifting, drifting — where does the autumn song deliver them? Butterflies dance on threads of wind.
One falls into longing — and once more, the blue stream reflects a shadow.
"Cai Sang Zi"

XXIV

East wind creases,
brow-mountains thin,
fallen petals vie to rust the spring heart.
Gauze robes thin,
green curtains drape,
how to bear the morning rain — facing the window, still like yesterday.
Falling, falling, falling.

Hard to return,
river pavilion willows,
cold catkin-snow blown — the new become old.
The covered-bridge tryst,
a secluded chamber burned,
dream-ash flies with shadows — ten thousand fragile things.
Bound, bound, bound.
"Chai Tou Feng"

XXV

Unbearable sorrow — brows in the mirror.
Hard to ease the heart's rending when wine is done; regret like purple swallows in flight.

Flowers sway — knowing spring draws near; reed-organ cold, in the hall dreams return.
Longing has shattered the jade buds; the jade sea stretches without end.
"Hudie Er"

XXVI

Half a pole-depth, the stream water — emerald and slender; the Jade Pool brews brocade mist.
Heaven's wind blows rain toward Shaman Rock; burn-scars green again.

Enduring this regret, pounding the heart's marrow; the one besotted, wine gives no joy.
Cloud-mountains, evening green, seep through layered curtains; a jade face fading — how to bear it?
"Ruan Lang Gui"

XXVII

Window-locked, pear blossom fragments of shadow; mist gathers at Plum Hermitage, a phantom realm.
A guttering candle, sleepless — it is tenderness that most invites illness.
Cold solitude, cold solitude — long dreams resist the endless night.
"Ru Meng Ling"

XXVIII

Before even leaning on the vermilion rail, tears already blur; cool mist wreathing the pavilion steals the soul away.
Waking, still a body trapped in dream — the false returned to true.

Wordless, enduring the wind that pares shadows thin; lifting the head, fearing the moon that teases the heart.
A whole devoted heart — where does it go? Released like dust.
"Tanpo Huan Xi Sha"

XXIX

Once entered into the mortal world, sorrow fills of itself; sick eyes, a wasted face — afraid to be seen by mandarin ducks.
Waiting for the last rosy clouds to break at heaven's edge; toad-light again illumines the deepest court.

Facing the golden goblet in vain, feelings more entangled; candle-shadows shake the soul; from the brazier, soft green smoke.
Tonight, no wind passes through Paradise Garden; gossamer, inch by inch — who will cut it?
"Die Lian Hua"

XXX

Clouds set a still face; the moon pours its radiance.
The soul is drawn to the Xiang Pavilion, pearl doors shut; green moss — the one awaited has not returned.

Flowers fall, beauty fades; feeling rushes like urgent rain.
Cold woods, thin mist, a place where no one goes; the broken moon heaps upon the lake.
"Hudie Er"

XXXI

Lewd rain, chaotic wind disturb the soul — the most maddening weather.
The whole courtyard in pale red and deep green; facing the empty goblet in a daze.

A fragrant heart, one inch, ages on the bough; the lotus dies for spring.
In days to come, no trace to seek — only willow catkins freshly fallen.
"Hao Shi Jin"

XXXII

Scattered catkins, high and low, one stretch of cool water; clouds encroach, sun eclipsed — the old pond.
Spring's soul already fallen before the flowers; evening rain, morning wind — why so savage?
"Cai Lian Zi"

XXXIII

Frog-drums beat the chill; faint light grazes the third-watch dew.
Lotus shadows, misty trees — eyes filled with threads of longing.

Dream-drunk, only then aware — this regret has nowhere to flee.
The soul, doubtful, departs — chasing rosy clouds, pursuing mist — transformed again into spring-autumn rain.
"Dian Jiang Chun"

(Fifty in total; too long, so divided into two parts)