The sun sets low in the west; The farewell song is over; We are separating. Leaning on the sandalwood oar I gazeat the water, Far away, the sky. Far away, the loved one, far away. Since you left, I know not whether you are far or near, I only know the colors of nature have paled And my heart is pent up with infinite yearnings. Leaning upon the single pillow, I try to conjure up the Land of Dreams where I may seek for you. Alas! No dreams come, only the dim lamplight fuses with the shadows. My boat glides down the tranquil river, Beyond the orchard which borders the bank. I leave you my poems. Read them. When the silence of the world possesses you, Or when you are fretted with disquiet. In order to go rowing in our boat we have waited For the setting of the sun. A slight breeze ripples the blue surface And stirs the water lilies. Along the banks, Where the cherry blossoms fall like rain, We watch a gimpse of strolling lovers. Fierce desire pulls me. I yearn to tell them of passion. Alas, my boat floats away At the mercy of the moving current. My heart looks back in sadness. Two swallows, and two swallows, Always the swallows fly in couples. When they see a tower of jade Or a lacquered Pavilion, One never perches there without the other. When they find a balustrade of marble Or a gilded window, They never separate. Rapidly my boat is gliding down the river, Under a cloud-strewn sky. I look into the water; It is clear as the night. When the clouds float past the moon, I see them floating in the river, And I feel as though I were rowing in the sky. I think of my beloved Mirrored so in my heart - Bruce Lee
Posted on: Sat, 20 Jul 2013 10:58:38 +0000
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