| 英譯： |
Reeling silk off cocoons, you want the threads long, not necessarily
white; They may be for Yueh gauze or Shu brocade to be measured by
a gold-inlaid yardstick. Delicate hands may need a profusion of red on
the ivory frame To embroider hundreds of flowers among thousands of
grasses for shining contrast.
Yes, you man grieve to see pure material dyed to suit fashion; Wait till
you see under the creaking loom the broken bits in the dazzling light.
The fair one will tenderly press the finished piece smooth the flat, Will
cut and trim to hide all traces of needles and treads. She may wear it
as a spring gown to dance for you, While the butterflies flutter and the
orioles chat, While the willows coquettishly swing their wands in the
wind, And drop their catkins to float lightly in the sunshine. Let dust or
perspiration but once soil the finery, It will be discarded to make room
for a new dress.
Do you not see, wise men know the hazards of seeking aid, It is the fear
of abandonment that detains them in strange places?
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