Bing Di Fu Rong · Half a Life Too Late

Dawn moon, no sleep; the dream-rain beats the leaves into disorder; the silver dragon-spout is nearly run dry. White paper stains blue-green; gathering the soul, we come closer still. Knowing well the good and ill that come with the seasons—all things are impermanent, and cannot be resented. Muffled thunder, peal upon peal; thinking of the past—when the swallows left, did they ever once pause?

My love takes on the color of mist; I go after them, the traces are gone; the wheel of rebirth lies across the road. Rinsing ink, steeping the lotus threads, the cold of night is the crueler. Who will make the vow whole again? Half a lifetime estranged, we could hardly know each other now. Don't speak of it, don't ask—as things stand today, there is only more distance between us.