In its centre is my reflection, and the golden magpie which does not fly away.
I sit at my dressing-stand, and I am like the green Fire-Bird who, thinking of its mate, died alone.
My husband is parted from me as an arrow from the bowstring.
I know the day he left; I do not know the year when he will return.
The cruel wind blows—truly the heart of the Unworthy One is cut to pieces.
My tears, like white jade chop-sticks, fall in a single piece before the water-chestnut mirror.
SONGS TO THE PEONIES SUNG TO THE AIR: "PEACEFUL BRIGHTNESS"
BY LI T'AI-PO