<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 初與元九別後忽夢見之及寤而書適至兼寄桐花詩悵然感懷因以此寄>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1934>
<BookName: SELECT CHINESE VERSES>
<Translator: HERBERT A. GILES & ARTHUR WALEY>
<TranslatedTitle: A Letter to Yuan Ch'iu>
<BookPage: 87>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 0>
<End Header>
<Poem>
永壽寺中語，
新昌坊北分。
歸來數行淚，
悲事不悲君。
悠悠藍田路，
自去無消息。
計君食宿程，
已過商山北。
昨夜雲四散，
千里同月色。
曉來夢見君，
應是君相憶。
夢中握君手，
問君意何如。
君言苦相憶，
無人可寄書。
覺來未及說，
叩門聲冬冬。
言是商州使，
送君書一封。
枕上忽驚起，
顛倒著衣裳。
開緘見手札，
一紙十三行。
上論遷謫心，
下說離別腸。
心腸都未盡，
不暇敘炎涼。
云作此書夜，
夜宿商州東。
獨對孤燈坐，
陽城山館中。
夜深作書畢，
山月向西斜。
月下何所有，
一樹紫桐花。
桐花半落時，
復道正相思。
殷勤書背後，
兼寄桐花詩。
桐花詩八韻，
思緒一何深。
以我今朝意，
憶君此夜心。
一章三徧讀，
一句十回吟。
珍重八十字，
字字化爲金。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
We talked together in the Yung-shou Temples;
We parted to the north of the Hsin-Ch'ang Terrace.
Going home—I shed a few tears.
Grieving about things,—not sorry for you.
Long, long the road to Lan-t'ien;
And no tidings come to me since departure.
Reckoning up your halts for eating and sleeping—
By thin time you have crossed the Shang mountains.
Last night the clouds scattered away,
A thousand leagues, the same moonlight scene.
When dawn came, I dreamt I saw your face;
It must hare been that you were thinking of me.
In my dream, I thought I hold your hand
And asked you to tell me what your thoughts were.
And you said: "I miss you bitterly,
But there's no one here to send to you a letter."
When I awake, before I had time to speak,
A knocking at the door sounded "Doong, doong!"
They came and told me a messenger from Shang-chou.
Had brought a letter, —a single scroll for you!
Up from A my pillow I suddenly sprang out of bed,
And threw on my clothes, all topsy-turvy
I undid the knot and saw the letter within;
A single sheet with thirteen lines of writing.
At the top it told the sorrows of an exile's heart;
At the bottom it described the pains of separation.
The sorrows and pains took up so much space.
There was no room to talk about the weather!
"But you said that when you wrote
You were staying for the night to the east of Shang-chou;
Sitting alone, lighted by a solitary candle
Lodging in the mountain hotel of Yang-Ch'êng.
Night was late when you finished writing,
The mountain moon was sailing towards the west.
What was it that shows under the moon!
A single tree of purple  paulovnia flowers.
When the  paulovnia flowers were falling,
You said, you were thinking of me.
Turning to the back of the letter,
I found therein your "Poem of the Paulovnia Flower."
The Poem of the  Paulovnia Flower has eight rhymes;
Yet what a deep tenderness runs through these couplets
By my thoughts of this morning
I can measure yours, the night you wrote the letter.
The whole poem I read three times;
Every line ten times I recite.
So precious to me are the fourscore words
That each letter seems to be a bar of gold!
<End Translation>