THE ASHES LIE CHILL AND GRAY IN THE GOLDEN BRAZIER. MY COVERLETS ROLL IN RED WAVES AS I TOSS IN MY BED. I THROW THEM OFF AWAY FROM ME; THEY FLOAT DOWN LIKE WAVES ON THE FLOOR. BUT I HAVE NO STRENGTH TO RISE AND BRUSH OUT MY LONG HAIR; EVEN THE JADE COMB IS TOO HEAVY FOR MY HAND. LET THE DUST SETTLE ON MY DRESSING-TABLE, DULLING MY GLEAMING BOTTLES.

NOW THE SUN BEGINS TO GLITTER THROUGH MY CURTAINS. ITS RISING WILL CAST BITTER SHADOWS OF SORROW IN MY HEART. I WISH TO SPEAK, I WANT TO CRY OUT; BUT FROM MY THROAT I CRUSH BACK MY CRIES INTO MY HEART. THIS IS NEW FOR ME, PAIN WHICH COMES NOT FROM TOO MUCH WINE, NOR FROM THE SADNESS OF APPROACHING AUTUMN.

NO, IT IS OVER NOW AND FINISHED. TODAY HE GOES AWAY. EVEN IF I SANG THE SWEET STAY-BY-ME SONG TO HIM TEN THOUSAND TIMES, HE WOULD NOT STAY. MY THOUGHTS MUST TRAVEL THE LONG ROAD TO THE SOUTH COUNTRY: HIS COUNTRY, VERY FAR AWAY.

SEE THE MIST AROUND MY PAVILION: BEFORE MY EYES THERE IS MIST ALL ABOUT. IT IS THE IMAGE OF MY SADNESS, THE REFLECTION OF MY DULL, STILL EYES. FOREVER WILL MY DULL EYES STARE AT YOU, PALE MIST, MY EYES THAT NEVER WILL LIGHT UP AGAIN. [Li Yi-hang]