Lament
Softly on the tower streams of light play;
It seems the moon is loath to move away.
For here is beauty wilting, tender sighs,

Telling of a tender heart in pain, which cries.
May we ask who is there so full of ruth?
A wife in name, a widow, ah, in truth!
"You are far, far away for o’er ten years;
I am alone, alone and oft in tears.
"You’re like the dust drawn upward on the way;
Like mud in dirty water still I stay.
One sinking, the other swimming we remain.
If ever, when are we to meet again?
"Would that I were the wind from the southwest,
That I could rush across the land to your breast!
From your embrace, if you should shut me out,
Where should I go? Where should I roam about?"
七哀
明月照高楼,
流光正徘徊.
上有愁思妇,
悲叹有余哀.
借问叹者谁,