Li Ch'ing Chao


Tz'U No. 7 - Poem by Li Ch'ing Chao

To the tune of "Rinsing Silk Stream"

Let not the deep cup be filled
with rich, amber-colored wine;
My mind was eased of sorrow
even before I was drunk.
Distant bells have already echoed
in the evening breeze.

My dream is broken
as the scent of incense vanishes.
Too small, the hairpin of the gold
of warding-off-cold
loosens its hold of my tresses.

I awake to find myself blankly facing
the red flickering glow
of the candle.


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Read poems about / on: sorrow, red, dream



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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