Around the building throughout the day,
These joyful guests convene on beams
With songs that carry auspicious signs,
Arriving through the curtained screens.
 
Sunset guides them down to town for rest,
But dawn will draw them to the river streams,
Until they reach the swans assembled together,
Watching them soar, as in a phoenix dream.
 
 
Original Chinese poem by Li Jiao
 

Fate is a sword that swings by chance—
I wonder where my brothers have gone.
Wiping these tears that wet my sleeves,
I comb my hair like a silken lawn.
The earth is vulgar, vast, and wild,
But Heaven is far, like the distant dawn.
For who is spared from sickness in time?
I cannot see you though life slips on.
 
 
Original Chinese Poem

By Liu Yong (987-1053), Translated by Frank Watson
 
 
Clouds above the mountain top,
About the river of night and day;
Looking out at the meadow crop,
Her face arrayed in the misty spray.
 
A thousand autumns pass,
Leaving my eyes in a frozen state;
Looking to go home, at last,
I feel our life’s divided fate.
 
I gaze, but letters no longer console—
Their perfumed scent has faded;
I fly alone, without a soul,
A wild goose, unaided.
 
Landing on an islet, exposed
By autumn’s sinking tides—