Dreaming of the South
Wu Wenying
Late in spring, The fallen blooms Add to my growing gloom.
She’s gone; the crescent moon hangs idle over the swing;
The horse beneath willow trees
Neighs tiredly in the breeze.
By waterside an empty painted boat is tied.
Drunk and weary,All the day long I stay behind the curtain dreary.
The swallows coming back at night
Take rest beyond my silver candlelight
Orioles' warble fades Amid green shades.
Nowhere out of the bower,Can be found an unfallen flower.