On the third day of the third lunar month, the spring breeze stirs the day; peach petals, light as shears,
Drift down like snow, red blossoms falling like sleet.
Blood spatters paint the peach blossom fan, brighter than the blooms still on the bough.
I carry it up to the painted tower and unfold it; the traces remain as they were,
A peach blossom has bound us in a deadly feud, life and death entwined.
I gaze toward the blue sky, so near, yet where is the immortal envoy from the Jade Pool,
Who might secretly deliver a love letter?
The flower-filled tower and wine pavilion stand plain before me, abandoned to rain-filled wells and smoke-shrouded walls.
How pitiable!
The old peach blossoms are plucked once more by Liu Lang, yet I fear the new Xi Shi of Wu’s palace will refuse.
I can only imagine my husband, far away at the edge of the world, while each day in the long palace lane stretches like a year.
Well written, keep up the good work!
New article, upvote. And don't always make excuses for the perseverance and wisdom of wolves. Human beings are greedy and do the things that wolves do?