• 《心》 My heart
My heart is but one. How can I give it to so many men?
Would that every man, seeing me, might come to hate me!
Then, even should I think of wantonness, it could not be my lot;
For, though I were in love, I’d have no way of planting passion’s seed.
I grieve, I do but grieve, that I know not why I cannot make men hate me;
Wherefore men bear me such a grudge.
Whoso holds commerce with me, he loves me to death,
Yet wrongs me in making my whole body a flower-debt; I would fain ask my lover,
Whether it be possible that Po-yuk was once incarnate in my body?
Ah! Passion’s seed (I say) must have a root, e’er it can be firmly planted.
Should I not be destined to marry, then, if infatuate with love, I shall but injure my bruised life.
You doubt? Then see how my eyes are more full of tears than were those of the maiden Lam Toi-yuk, who from girlhood so doted on Po-yuk.
Truly ‘tis irksome.
For, though you were constant to death, yet the hot flush of love lasts but a moment.
She paid in full her debt of tears, but even in death she did not meet her lover.