Li Ch'ing Chao


Tz'U No. 17 (He Is Gone) - Poem by Li Ch'ing Chao

To the tune of "Wu Ling Spring"

Wind ceased, the dust is scented
with the fallen flowers.
Though day is getting late, I am too weary
to attend to my hair.
Things remain as ever, yet he is here no more,
and all is finished.
Fain would I speak, but tears flow first.

They say that at the Twin Brooks
spring is still fair.
I, too, wish to row a boat there.
But I am afraid that the little skiff
on the Twin Brooks
Could not bear the heavy load of my grief.


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Read poems about / on: spring, grief, hair, wind, flower



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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