偶把遗编读。 觉凄清、 风生满纸， 哀音裂竹。 貌比左芬年更少， 况又才逾徐淑。 肯久恋、 红尘千斛。 试问埋香何处好， 料青山、 也有修来福。 泉路下， 鬼应哭。
朝朝暮暮相追逐。 怎而今、 云消雨散， 形孤影独。 后会自然来世有， 谁道他生未卜。 可邀我、 同登仙箓。 昨夜分明惊入梦， 羡容颜、 依旧温如玉。 便携手， 述心曲。
Jinlü qu: Composed in Grief as I Sorted out
My Sister’s Posthumous Poems Tan
Yinmei
It
happens when I read the pieces she left behind: I
can feel a chill, clear wind rising, filling the paper, Its
sorrowful sound cracking the bamboos. In
looks she compared with Zuo Fen, only more precocious; What’s
more, her talent surpassed Xu Shu’s. She
was ready to enjoy the full measure of this world of dust. Let
me ask then: where would be a good place to bury her fragrance? Even
the green hills would gain by her perfection. Down
the road to the Yellow Springs Ghosts,
too, must cry.
Every
morning, every evening, we pursued each other’s company. Why
now have the clouds disappeared and the rain dispersed? And
my form is single, my shadow alone. Of
course we’ll meet again in worlds to come: Who
says that future lives have not yet been divined? You
can invite me to join you on the list of immortals. I
was startled when you came into my dream so clearly last night. I
admired your appearance, warm as jade as in old times. So
I held your hand And
told you my heart’s worries.
（Grace Fong 译） |
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