Jade Smoke

The cicadas cry desolately. At dusk, by the pavilion, a sudden shower has just passed.

We drink beneath the city gate, but our hearts are elsewhere. Just as we linger, the orchid boat is urged to depart.

Hand in hand, we gaze at each other's tearful eyes, choked with emotion and unable to speak.

I think of the long journey ahead: a thousand miles of misty waters, evening haze heavy over the vast southern sky.

Parting has always wounded those in love. How much worse it is in this cold, desolate autumn.

Where will I wake from drunken sleep tonight?

By the willow bank, in the dawn breeze and fading moonlight.

In the years to come, even the finest days and loveliest scenery will seem wasted.

Even with a thousand tender feelings, who will I share them with?

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