• 《煙花地》 （凡二） The land of flowers and vapour (two parts)
The land of flowers and vapour! When I think thereof, my heart goes out in loathing.
How can I tell men the love-story of my middle-age?
Had good fate cast me in the mould of a fairy flower, I had not been planted in this soil.
But since I am planted amiss, I hope for change and transfer.
To-day I have tasted the flavour alike of flower and willow, wind and wave.
Moreover, if the haunts of pleasure are drained dry, the flower-stalk will but shrivel the more easily.
Since then my fate is frail as a flower, I secretly bemoan myself:
I reflect that age comes and flower wither, therefore I must find something whereon I may rely.
Ah! Methinks that, when flowers wither, there is hope that men will bury them: yet even that is rare.
So, while the bloom is full-blown, he should pity me; thus he would not spurn beauty’s season.
I bethink me that he who does not matriculate in youth, will find it hard in old age to gain his degree.
Moreover, when autumn comes the plight of flowers is all, all evil.
To-day fate has destined me to be a flower; therefore meseems in bud and fall of blossom I shall pass my life.
Ask of flowers: — ‘O Flowers, who loves you?’
Flowers have nothing selfish in their nature.
If flowers have love, then they must love to the end.
Wind, cloud, moon, dew, — of such stuff are our infatuate passions.
I set no store by the hate or love of those who praise flowers:
For magic is my seed.
Stay then! Nor die for the sake of vulgar passion.
Because I chance to be paying my flowr-debts, hence am I for the nonce cut off from fairyland.
In the land of flower and smoke there is a wide, wide sea of bitterness.
Though you search, yet it is hard to find a lover therein.
‘Tis but payment of our flower-debts, to welcome the new and speed the old.
Are there any who pity gems and grieve for fragrance?
In the war of wanton joy, I bethought myself from the first,
That, though my sweetheart wrong me, yet till death I shall scarce forget him.
At times I spurn him: my face shows no outward sign of my thought’s trend.
Only in my heart, when I think of you, I suffer hidden misery.
To-day in loneliness I vainly turn towards smoke and flower.
Ah! Stop these wild desires!
Though my heart is one with yours, I find it hard to speak.
I trow, I will not flout your constant love.