A Traveller Comes to the Old Terrace of Su
BY LI T'AI-PO
The old Imperial Park — the ruined Terrace — the young willows.
The water-chestnut pickers are singing, a simple song unaccompanied by instruments — but joy is unbearable.
For now the moon over the Western River is alone.
The time is past when she gazed upon the concubines in the Palace of the King of Wu.
The old Imperial Park — the ruined Terrace — the young willows.
The water-chestnut pickers are singing, a simple song unaccompanied by instruments — but joy is unbearable.
For now the moon over the Western River is alone.
The time is past when she gazed upon the concubines in the Palace of the King of Wu.
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