Wuling Spring Variations
translated from the classical chinese by chengru he. original by li qingzhao.
武陵春
[宋]李清照
風住塵香花已盡
日晚倦梳頭
物是人非事事休
欲語淚先流
聞說雙溪春尚好
也擬泛輕舟
只恐雙溪舴艋舟
載不動 許多愁
Cipai: Wu Ling Chun
Li Qing Zhao
feng zhu chen shiang hua yi jin
ri wan juan shu tou
wu shi ren fei shi shi shiou
yu yu lei shian liu
wen shuo shuang-shyi chun shang hao
ye ni fan ching zhou
zhi kong shuang-shyi ze-meng-zhou
zai bu dong shyu duo chou
Wuling ( )
( ) stopped ( ) scented ( ) ended
late morning combing my hair 春 spring
物是人非事事休
before (I) speak ( ) run down 風 wind
(I) have heard about the spring at Twin Streams 花 flower
(I) have thought about going down on a ( ) 淚 tears
but am afraid the ( ) 舟 boat
carries not much of my sorrow 舴艋 small boat
Springtime in Wuling
風
風 風
feng paused
風 incense dust
petals gone
day-late-lazy-brush-hair
things the same
people changed
everything reposed
about-to-speak-tears-first-down
春
in twin brooks chun in her prime
春 why not paddling down
春 春
though my little zemeng boat
sighs at my unbearable sorrow
Wuling ∙ Spring
Wind has paused, incense is burnt — I lazily comb my hair
in late morning — where have the flowers gone?
Everything is the same, but you are not here and I still am.
Before I open my mouth, tears run down.
They say the spring at the twin brooks blooms.
I want to float down the river.
Alas, my grasshopper-shaped little boat,
how could you bear the sorrow of mine?
Tune of Wuling Spring
wind has paused
soil has scented
petals are gone
late lazy morning
combing my hair
things are the same
people have changed
all is ceased
my tears run faster
than my words
I’ve heard
about the twin brooks
spring stays there still
should I go
down on a fast
boat yet I doubt
my ze-meng-zhou
could carry my
heavy sorrow
Spring Day
Dear diary, it is a ___ day. or it is ___. The wind has paused. The incense has burnt to dust. The flowers are withered. No petals on a wet black bough. Looking at ___, I am brushing my hair. Such a lazy late morning. Everything is the same, but you are not here and I still am. Everything is at siesta. As if it never happened. I have so much to say. So much – but tears run down before I open my mouth. Everyone is talking about the twin brooks, how spring there is still at her prime. I thought about traveling down. But look, that little boat, light as a grasshopper—how can it carry my sorrow, my sorrow, my sorrow…