Standing Till the Sun Sets: Qing Palace

From the seaside to the desert: was it my older sister who guided me here? Why have I come to this era? What am I supposed to do now?

Could I have come here only to witness the brutal struggle among the Nine Princes for the throne?…

The rain has passed, the clouds have parted. I lean on the railing in silence, watching the autumn light fade. The evening scene is desolate, enough to stir Song Yu’s sorrow. The wind skims the water; duckweed flowers grow old. Moonlight and dew turn cold; paulownia leaves drift yellow. My heart aches. Where is my old friend? Only misty water stretches on without end.

Unforgettable: our literary gatherings and wine parties, so many lonely nights beneath the moon, so many years gone by. The sea is vast, the mountains far away. I do not know where Xiaoxiang lies. I think of the paired swallows, unable to trust them with a message from afar. I point toward the dusk sky, knowing the way home only in vain. We gaze at each other in sorrow. Amid the cries of a lone wild goose, I stand until the sun slants low., Jade Butterfly