苏轼·《水龙吟·次韵章质夫杨花词》英译

Su Shi

They seem to be but are not flowers;

None pity them when they fall down in showers.

Forsaking leafy home,

By the roadside they roam.

I think they’re fickle, but they’ve sorrow deep.

Their grief-o’erladen bowels tender

Like willow branches slender;

Their leaves like wistful eyes near shut with sleep,

About to open, yet soon closed again.

They dream of drifting with the wind for long,

Long miles to find their men,

But are aroused by orioles’ song.

Grieve not for willow catkins flown away,

But that in western garden fallen petals red

Can’t be restored. When dawns the day

And rain is o’er, we cannot find their traces

But in a pond with duckweeds overspread.

Of Spring’s three Graces,

Two have gone with the roadside dust

And one with waves. But if you just

Take a close look, then you will never

Find willow down but tears of those who part,

Which drop by drop

Fall without stop.