The love-lorn willow
The love-lorn willow I give as present to my light-loving lord.
Lord! Prithee, is the word ‘parting’ piteous or no?
With all my heart I do but hope you will not jilt me,
May we both preserve our love, wide as the water and high as the hills!
How could I think that, since my fate was not wed to yours, therefore we should thus be parted in mid-journey?
Now smoke and water, clouds and hills obstruct the highroad.
How could I know in girlhood’s day that parting was so bitter?
Ah! Truly it is irksome.
Now I rely on there, O willow, to tell my sad love’s story.
Wherefore, though ‘tis so far to reach this parting-stage, I shrink not from the trouble.
The love-lorn willow’s weeping eyes, are two, are two!
O willow-tree! Why at sight of other folk art thou merry, at sight of me art thou distressed?
Thou art planted at Pa Bridge: hence I know thou sufferest for a debt of sin.
Thou speedest men homewards: then in loneliness dost thou watch the teal which roost overnight upon the water.
O willow! Thy delicate frame is hard to support, even as is mine.
Thou fearest not the spring winds, but fearest the burden of autumn frost.
Today thine aspect is so withered, belike thou hast naught whereon to rely.
Ah! ‘tis not well to turn elsewhere.
When troubles come to a head, hope tarries to the last.
From of yore ‘tis sooth that new sprouts must burgeon, e’er hope of new life be given to the dry willow-tree.