
unfurled buds,
not drooped to gravity,
tell Spring’s story.

unfurled buds,
not drooped to gravity,
tell Spring’s story.

first droplets
of a Spring shower ripple
on the river.

willow-lined stream
swells with a rush of
Spring white water.
It is autumn; not without,
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about;
It is I that have grown old.
Birds are darting through the air,
Singing, building without rest;
Life is stirring everywhere,
Save within my lonely breast.
There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves
Comes no murmur from the mill.

late Spring:
a dust of snow remains
on green mountains.
Yan grass shimmers like silken jade.
Qin mulberry trees' green leaves droop.
Your homecoming is now at hand
As heartbreak has me thin and stooped.
Spring Winds and I are strangers --
Why, past my curtains, the inward swoop?
Chinese Title: 春思; Original poem in Simplified Chinese:
燕草如碧丝, 秦桑低绿枝;
当君怀归日, 是妾断肠时。
春风不相识, 何事入罗帏?
Note: this is poem #7 in “300 Tang Poems” [唐诗三百首]

pink blossom drops
in still morning air
beside a quiet lake.

gusting Spring winds:
can the hunkered crow
take to flight?