I SET MY STRINGED INSTRUMENT HERE ON THE ELEGANT TABLE ... I SIT HERE ON THE EXQUISITE BENCH. EMOTIONS FLOW INTO ME, MOVE ME, AS I SIT HERE QUIETLY.
WHY SHOULD I PLAY? BREEZES WILL FIND THE INSTRUMENT ... BREEZES WILL FLOW OVER IT AND SWEEP THE STRINGS TO SONG. [Po Chu-i]
A DREAM OF YOU
FOR TEN YEARS I HAVE BEEN LIVING AND YOU HAVE BEEN DEAD. EVEN WHEN I DO NOT THINK OF YOU I CANNOT FORGET. YOUR LONELY GRAVE IS A THOUSAND MILES AWAY.... WHERE CAN I GO TO SPEAK MY SADNESS?
EVEN IF WE MET NOW, YOU WOULD NEVER RECOGNIZE ME. MY HAIR IS GOING GRAY AT THE TEMPLES, MY WRINKLED FACE ALWAYS COVERED WITH DUST OF THE ROAD.
IN A DREAM LAST NIGHT I CAME HOME. AT THE OPEN WINDOW OF OUR ROOM YOU SAT COMBING YOUR HAIR. WE STARED AT EACH OTHER WITHOUT A WORD, AND BURST INTO TEARS.... I CHERISH IN MEMORY THAT GLEN OF OUR HEART-BREAKING, THAT STILL MOONLIGHT NIGHT, THAT HILL OF LITTLE PINES. [Su Shih]
A SONG OUT THERE
A SONG OUT THERE.... WHY, IT IS A BEGGAR SINGING! IF THIS OLD MAN WHO NEVER HAD A SILVER COIN CAN SING, WHY MUST YOU WITH RICH GOLD MEMORIES SIT HERE AND SIGH? [Tu Fu]
THINKING OF HER LOVER
THE FRAGRANCE IS BLOWN FROM THE LOTUS-FLOWERS. THE EMERALD LEAVES ARE WITHERED NOW AND BROWN. THE WEST WIND IS PUFFING SORROWS INTO GREEN RIPPLES ON THE RIVER. EVERYTHING IS DYING, MY YEARS ARE DYING ... I CANNOT BEAR THE SIGHT OF DEATH.