| 英譯： |
Tung Tsao-chiu of Lo-yang,$(friend,)$
I remember the good old time.
You built me a wine house to the south of the Tien-
chin Bridge
Songs were bought with yellow gold, and laughter with
white jewels.
Months went by in one long lasting rapture; we scorned
kings and princes.
Wise and valiant men from all shores were there as your guests.
Among them I was your special friend, you had my
heart's devotion.
For you I would not have declined to uproot mountains
and overturn the sea.
To you I bared my heart and soul without hesitation.
I journeyed to Hwai-nan to dwell in the laurel grove;
You remained in the north of Lo, with many sad dreams.
The separation was more than we could bear,
So we met again and went together.
We went together a long way to Hsien-cheng
Through the thirty-six turns of the river, winding round
and round,
And amid the voices of the pine wind over the innum-
erable cliffs,
Which having ceased—$(lo!)$
We burst into a valley—into the light of a thousand
flowers.
There on the level ground with their horses of golden reins and silver saddles
Stood the governor of Han-tung and his men, who had
come to meet us.
The Taoist initiates of Tzu-yang welcomed us, too, blow-
ing on their jeweled bamboo pipes.
They took us on the Tower of Mist-Feasting,—what a
music there stirred!
Such celestial notes! It seemed all the sacred birds
of heaven sang together.
With those pipes playing, our long sleeves began to
flap lightly.
At last the governor of Han-chung, drunken, rose and
danced.
It was he, who covered me with his brocade robe;
And I, drunk too, chose his lap for pillow and went
to sleep.
During the feast our spirits soared high over the ninth
heaven,
But ere the morning we were scattered like stars and
rain,
Scattered hither and thither, the Pass of Chu separating
us wide,
As I sought my old nest in the mountains,
And you returned to your home across the Bridge of
Wei.
Your honorable father brave as leopard and tiger
Became the governor of Ping-chow then.
And stopt the barbarian invasion.
In May you called me and I crossed the mountain
of Tai-hsing.
My cart wheels were broken on the steep passes, winding
like sheep guts; $(but that did not matter.)$
I traveled on and came to Pe-liang and stayed for
months.
What hospitality! What squandering of money!
Red jade cups and rare dainty food on tables inlaid
with green jems!
You made me so rapturously drunk that I had no
thought of returning.
Oft we went out to the western edge of the city,
To the Temple of Chin, where the stream was clear as
emerald ;
Where on a skiff afloat we played with water and made
music on pipes and drums;
Where the tiny waves looked like dragon-scales—and
how green were the reed in the shallows!
Pleasure-inspired, we took singing girls and gaily sailed
the stream up and down.
How beautiful are their vermilioned faces, when half-
drunken, they turn to the setting sun,
While the willow flakes are flying about them like snow,
And their green eyebrows are mirrored in the clear
water one hundred feet deep!
And comelier still are the green eyebrows when the new
moon shines.
The beautiful girls sing anew and dance in robes of
thin silk.
Their songs, lifted by the zephyr, pass away in the
sky,
But the sweet notes seem to linger in the air, hovering
about the wandering clouds.
The delight of those days cannot be had again.
I went west and offered my Ode of the Long Willows,
But to my skyey ambition the imperial gates were closed.
I came back to the East Mountain, white-headed.
I met you once more at the south end of the Bridge
of Wei;
But once more we parted company north of Tsan-tai.
You ask me the measure of my sorrow—
$(Pray,)$ watch the fast falling flowers at the going of
spring !
I would speak, but speech could not utter all,
Nor is there an end to my heart's grief.
I call my boy and bid him kneel down and seal this
letter,
And I send it to you a thousand miles, remembering.
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