As down Mount Emerald at eve I came, The mountain moon went all the way with me
Backward I looked, to see the heights aflame With a pale light that glimmered eerily
A little lad undid the rustic latch As hand in hand your cottage we did ...
Backward I looked, to see the heights aflame With a pale light that glimmered eerily
A little lad undid the rustic latch As hand in hand your cottage we did ...
Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt sitting in a green wood
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head
With open shirt sitting in a green wood
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head
A pity it is evening, yetI do love the water of this springseeing how clear it is, how clean;rays of sunset gleam on it,lighting up its ripples, making itone with those who travelthe roads;
I turn and facethe moon; sing it a song, thenlisten ...
I turn and facethe moon; sing it a song, thenlisten ...
I came here a wandererthinking of home,remembering my far away Ch'ang-an
And then, from deep in Yellow Crane Pavillion,
I heard a beautiful bamboo fluteplay "Falling Plum Blossoms
"It was late spring in a city by the river
And then, from deep in Yellow Crane Pavillion,
I heard a beautiful bamboo fluteplay "Falling Plum Blossoms
"It was late spring in a city by the river
When first my hair began to cover my forehead,
I picked and played with flowers before the gate
You came riding on a bamboo horse,
And circled the walkway, playing with green plums
I picked and played with flowers before the gate
You came riding on a bamboo horse,
And circled the walkway, playing with green plums
The fields are chill, the sparse rain has stopped;
The colours of Spring teem on every side
With leaping fish the blue pond is full;
With singing thrushes the green boughs droop
The colours of Spring teem on every side
With leaping fish the blue pond is full;
With singing thrushes the green boughs droop
See how the Yellow River's water move out of heaven
Entering the ocean,never to return
See how lovely locks in bright mirrors in high chambers,
Though silken-black at morning, have changed by night to snow
Entering the ocean,never to return
See how lovely locks in bright mirrors in high chambers,
Though silken-black at morning, have changed by night to snow
