A Song of Changgan

Translated By Keith Holyoak

Back when my hair barely covered my forehead

I was picking flowers in front of the gate.

You rode over, whipping your bamboo horse

With green plum branch, chasing me round the bed.

Together we lived and played in Changgan village,

Two small innocents who saw no shadows,

At fourteen, my husband, I became your wife.

A bashful girl who never laughed, I closed

Myself to you, set my face to a wall.

A thousand calls! I wouldn't turn my head.

Fifteen—a smile—brows unknit, I wished

My ashes mixed with those of him I wed.

I thought you'd wait in a rising river for me—

Why need I peer from a tower, on my toes?

Sixteen—I watched you leave on a long journey.

A boat through Qutang Gorge in June must thread

The needle to dodge the underwater rocks

While gibbons tell the far heavens their sorrows,

Traces you left are still in front of the gate;

But now in every footprint green moss grows,

Moss that's too deep to sweep it all away.

Leaves fall in early winds that blow this autumn.

September's here; the butterflies are yellow.

Pair by pair they fly above West Garden.

It hurts to watch it all. My heart is aching.

I sit and grieve, my face a fading blossom.

Whenever it's time to start your trip back home,

Write me to say you've left those faraway lands—

I'll run to meet you, run as far as I can,

Even all the way to Changfeng Sands.

Copyright Credit: Li Bai, "Song of Changgan" from FACING THE MOON: Poems of Li Bai and Du Fu Translated by Keith Holyoak. Copyright © 2007 by Keith Holyoak. Reprinted by permission of Keith Holyoak.

Source: Facing the Moon: Poems of Li Bai and Du Fu (Oyster River Press, 2007)