秋掩重门里。 坐西窗、 联床翦烛， 良宵能几。 去日匆匆苍狗幻， 尝尽愁中滋味。 恨四壁、 埋忧无地。 蓦念光威分手日， 到那时、 忆着归宁未。 人一别， 便千里。
名山著述成何计。 叹年来、 东涂西抹， 半供游戏。 女伴过从元不少， 眼底纷纷弱绮。 算谁是、 闺中知己。 我有吟情抛未得， 更怜卿、 骨相都寒矣。 一灯灺， 浩歌起。
Diao qiu huan jiu: Talking at Night with My Elder
Sister Tan
Yinmei
Autumn
hides us behind double gates. Sitting
on linked beds by the west window, we trim the candle. How
many fine nights can there be? Days
hurry by, the passing clouds an illusion. I’ve
tasted all the flavors of sorrow And
regret there’s nowhere to bury my worries within these walls. Suddenly
I think of that awful day when we shall part: Then
I’ll be anxious to see you return for a home visit.
Once
we separate It
will be hundreds of miles. What’s
the point of writing about famous mountains? I
sigh that this year I’ve scribbled off and on, Half
treating it as a game. I
am associated with not a few women friends, Before
my eyes, their silk gauze robes displayed in multitude. On
whom can I count to be my companion in these chambers? I
have been unable to abandon my poetic nature. Still
more I’m sorry your features have all grown plain. When
the one lamp flickers out, We
lift up our voices in song.
（Grace Fong 译） |
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