作者 莉宝






Who etched longing into the breeze,

As west wind weeps through autumn eaves?





I break a plum branch in the snow,

To wait where mists embrace the shore.

A lonely lantern glows—

Yet no footstep halts below.





From now on, ’neath moonlight by the western tower,

I shall walk alone, no backward hour.

Ask not of return, nor speak of pain,

Let wine dissolve what may remain.

I cast my longing to the breeze—

Farewell, I seek no more to know.





The past I seal in scented ink,

And burn beneath the peach tree’s brink.

A flute sighs through the day,

Yet cannot blow your gaze away.





From now on, ’neath moonlight by the western tower,

I shall walk alone, no backward hour.

Ask not of return, nor speak of pain,

Let wine dissolve what may remain.

I cast my longing to the breeze—

Farewell, I seek no more to know.





Snow thickens where the lantern swings,

The one I loved has spread his wings.

I stand in wind and gently close—

The warmth I held, and let it go. 顶一下