By Li Ch'ing Chao
Spring has come to the Pass.
Once more the new grass is kingfisher green.
The pink buds of the peach trees
Are still unopened little balls.
The clouds are milk white jade
Bordered and spotted with green jade.
No dust stirs.
In a dream that was too easy to read,
I have already drained and broken
The cup of Spring.
Flower shadows lie heavy
On the translucent curtains.
The full, transparent moon
Rises in the orange twilight.
Three times in two years
My lord has gone away to the East.
Today he returns.
And my joy is already
Greater than the Spring.