辛弃疾·《念奴娇》
野塘花落，
又匆匆过了清明时节。
铲地东风期限客梦，
一枕云屏寒怯。
曲岸持觞，
垂杨系马，
此地曾经别。
楼空人去，
旧游飞燕能说。
闻道绮陌东头，
行人曾见，
帘底纤纤月。
旧恨春江流不尽，
新恨云山千叠。
料得明朝，
尊前重见，
镜花难折。
也应惊问：
近来多少华发？
(To the Tune of Niannujiao)
Xin Qiji
Wild pear blossoms start falling again,
so soon, the Qingming festival over.
The cruel eastern wind, for no reason,
Interrupts a traveler’s dream.
I awake, the brocade curtain
Devastatingly cold. Once,
she held the drink to me
on the winding river bank,
and we bade farewell to each other
under a weeping willow tree
with my horse tethered to it.
Now, the pavilion deserted,
there is no trace of her,
only the swallows twittering about bygones.
She’s been seen, people say,
east of the bustling thoroughfare,
behind the curtain, still as graceful
as the new moon. Old regrets
run like the endless spring water.
New griefs pile up
like the clouds over the mountains.
If we were going to meet again,
at a banquet, to tell her all this
would be as impossible
as to pluck the flower from a mirror.
She would say, perhaps,
How white your hair has grown!
