Cold Beyond the Latticed Window

How many times has the slanting sun set? Lush greenery lies like a dream, embracing lovely trees. Misty waters stretch into the distance. At night, I lean against the cold window and listen to the rain. I sigh that this life is full of hardships that cannot be overcome. Let them whisper beneath the lamplight, for all I can do is let my tears soak the coverlet embroidered with lovebirds. The ink marks of my poems stain it through, as old affection fades into dusk. The road home lies far away, at the edge of the world. Do not squander the best years of your youth, even as fallen blossoms drift helplessly. With the curtain half drawn against the breeze and moonlight, I wonder how much idle sorrow I bear. I think of our vows beneath the mountains, but the letter I send is too short to hold them all. Peach blossoms cloud the moon, and love has no master. The road stretches on and on. I ask when you will return, only to mistake longing for the truth.