• 《花易落》 The flowers’ fall
Flowers fall easily, and as easily they open.
How often, prithee, can you see a bloom so lovely?
I sorely fear that fair flowers will not be open long:
And when I think of the flowers’ decay, I had rather they never bloomed at all.
A flower-face, howsoever beautiful, must change at last.
Look you! When the flower falls from the twig-top, how can it be set upon its stalk again?
In the end, if you plant passion’s root, then lovely are the flowers.
Yet I fear lest the twin blossoms of fair flowers be sundered in their planting.
The fresh flower is so fair, I fear the vagrant bees will ravish it.
Masterless the fallen flowers feel themselves grow numb.
I remember how before the flowers we swore an oath, saying, that our love should be one.
How could I then, reclining on flowers and steeped in wine, think that there are truants such as Wong Fui?
Would we could find the flower-spirit and hale him off to our questioning!
Ah! The flowers are but in the mirror.
Is it, after all, true passion or false love?
Prithee, what, in fine, is the birthright of beings frail-fated as the peach-blossom?