after Li Qingzhao
to 'Springtime at Wu Ling'
The wind has calmed, and in the air,
A powdered fragrance lingers. Dusk,
And I am weary, weary. All undone
I clutch these remnants of our life,
Our years. But you are lost - my words
Like salt, catch in my throat, through tears.
Shuanxi is beautiful in spring, they say;
And there I would set sail, but laden under
This my grief, this fragile vessel fails.