The sun sets on the back of a wild goose

Water-Hourglass

The willow shoots long, the spring rain lightning

beyond the flowers, the water-hourglass

drips, distantly,

flushing the wild geese at the frontier

and the birds on the city wall,

but not the golden partridge painted on the screen.

The thin mist of the incense comes

through the embroidered curtain.

Overlooking the pond, her room is wrapped in solitude.

Against a red candle,

behind the brocade valence hung low,

her dream is long, unknown to him.

            Wen Tingyun (812-870)

Broken Lotus Root

Young, we threw away the pastoral years.

Now like a broken lotus root it is

impossible to join the present and the past. Then,

we waited for each other,

standing by the vermilion-railed bridge.

Today, I search for the traces, in vain,

along the deserted path buried under yellow leaves.

Through the mist all the peaks

seem to be highlighting the blue.

Setting on the back of a wild goose,

the sun turns into a dark red.

You left, like a cloud drifting away,

across the river. The memory of

our passion is like a willow catkin

stuck to the ground, after the rain.

            Zhou Bangyan (1057-1121)

Husband-Watching Rock

Where she stood looking out for her husband,

the water of the river flowed on

to the horizon. Now

she's turned into a rock, which

continues to look out

without ever turning back, day in,

day out, against the wind and rain

on the hill . . .

When he comes back,

the rock should speak out.

            Wang Jian (766-830?)

From Treasury of Chinese Love Poems, trans. & ed. Qiu Xiaolong.