by Yu Xuanji, poet of Tang Dynasty
Bedroom Lament
Fragrant grass fills her hands
as she weeps in the setting sun;
she heard that the neighbor’s man
has just come back from the front.
Swans of the south
had only gone north
just the other day;
now northern geese
are flying south
on this morning, today.
Though spring comes
and autumn goes,
her feelings for him remain;
as autumn goes
and spring comes,
news from him is scarce.
The doors are closed
at this noble house;
no one ever comes:
What has made desolation
pierce the silken drapes?
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Written on 2015-02-18 at 19:20
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