Evening rain spatters on the river.
Autumn scenes have drenched-look of dripping coat.
A wind, frosty, rise with wanting sunlight:
Strikes o’er hill and river a dismal note.
Everywhere, a bright red becomes dull red.
Leaves turn yellow; and some are even browned.
The beauty of nature – fading away.
Only the Yangzi* flows on quiet, eastward bound.
I sigh o’er the traces I’ve left in places.
Why should I have stayed out for so long?
My love must have watched during her toilet –
For each boat – for me – and proved herself wrong.
How could she have known that at those moments –
I was leaning on a railing on my part,
With thousands of feelings tormenting me,
In utter despair, with a heavy heart?
* Yangzi: the Yangzi River, the longest river in China
Ba Sheng Gan Zhou
I face the pattering rain in the evening sky over the river.
It refreshes the cool autumn at one sweep.
Gradually the frosty wind grows colder and stronger,
The landscape is cheerless and desolate,
The sunset lights up the pavilion.
All the flowers and green leaves have faded.
Gradually the regaling views of nature die out.
Only the waters of the Yangtze River
Silently flow to the east.
I cannot bear to climb high and look far,
For when I gaze towards my hometown, too distant to see,
It is hard to suppress my longing.
Bemoaning my wanderings in recent years,
Why am I stubborn and stay away so long?
I see my beloved staring into the distance vainly seeking
A homeward boat that carries me to her.
How can she know that I am
Leaning against the parapet engrossed in such sorrowful thoughts?
Eight Beats of Ganzhou Song
Shower by shower
The evening rain besprinkles the sky
Over the river,
Washing cool the autumn air far and nigh.
Gradually frost falls and blows the wind so chill
That few people pass by the hill or rill.
In fading sunlight is drowned my bower.
Everywhere the red and the green wither away;
There’s no more splendor of a sunny day.
Only the waves of River Long
Silently eastward flow along.
I cannot bear
To climb high and look far, for to gaze where
My native land is lost in mist so thick
Would make my lonely heart homesick.
I sigh over my rovings year by year.
Why would I hopelessly linger here?
From her bower my lady fair
Must gaze with longing eye.
How oft has she mistaken homebound sails
On the horizon from mine?
How could she know that I,
Leaning upon the rails,
With sorrow frozen on my face, for her I pine!