Jade Butterfly: Where Rain Has Ceased and Clouds Have Broken

I gaze where the rain has ceased and the clouds have broken; leaning sorrowfully on the railing, I watch the autumn light go. The evening scene is desolate, enough to stir the sadness Song Yu knew. Over light water-winds the water ferns grow old; the moonlit dew turns cold and the plane-tree leaves drift down yellow. It sends grief into the heart. Where is my old friend? — mist and water without end.

Unforgettable, those meetings for verse and for wine: how often have wind and moon been slighted, how often have the stars and frosts changed. The sea is wide, the hills remote; who knows where the Xiao and Xiang may lie. I think of the paired swallows that cannot be trusted with far letters; I point at the evening sky and know in vain the returning sails. Gazing darkly into the distance, amid the cry of a lone swan goose I stand until the slanting sun is gone.