• 《想前因》 On Predestination
Prithee, ponder a moment on predestined fate.
Why do I, in this life, sink into the red mundane dust?
Methinks committal to the world in woman’s sex of itself is pitiable.
The more, then, in green arbours does a girl suffer breaking of stalk and lack of root.
Splendour’s glamour lasts but during wassail over of the wine.
Wait till the guests scatter and the lamp grows cold, then you will feel heart-broken.
If I have a guest-gallant, then I am styled ‘my lady’: if none, then I am degraded.
An instant’s dullness makes me threefold viler.
If haply you meet an impassioned guest, then you still have some reliance.
But sorely I fear those unloving drunkards; they are as a blighting pest.
In fine, ‘twas from the day when I sank into the green arbour, that I sowed the seed of remorse.
Ah! Let me vent my spite!
Withal we must endure till flowers are bruised and tears run dry: e’er we have lived a single human life.