domingo, janeiro 23, 2005

Chiang chen tzu

Ten years living and dead have drawn apart
I do nothing to remember
But I can not forget
Your lonely grave a thousand miles away ...

Nowhere can I talk of my sorrow -
-Even if we met, how would you know me
My face full of dust
My hair like snow?I
n the dark of night, a dream:
suddenly, I am home
You by the window
Doing your hair
I look at you and can not speak
Your face is streaked by endless tears
Year after year must they break my heart
These moonlit nights?That low pine grave?

Su Shi