English

Blown in the wind — the silver river
of the Milky Way;
halfway to heaven, hibiscus flowers of jade.
The Jasper Lady, dazzling
among trees of pearl,
a white phoenix, dancing among pine trees

The village festival is really worth seeing —
mountain farmers praying for a good harvest.

Flute players, drummers burst forth from nowhere;
laughing children race after them.
Tiger masks, leopard heads swing from side to side.
Country singers, village dancers perform for the crowd.

I'd rather have one minute of this wild show
than all the nobility of kings and generals.

Beloved, you are like thread in the loom
woven into a flowering tree of love!
I am like the flowers on your robe:
the spring wind blows but they won't drop off.

Who was it, I pray,
On the wedding day
Of the Galilean's daughter
With a touch divine
Turned into wine
Six buckets of filtered water?

The rain has come, and the earth must be very glad
Of its moisture, and the made roads all dust clad;
It lets a friendly veil down on the lucent dark,
And not of any bright ground thing shows any spark.

Tomorrow's grey morning will show cow-parsley,
Hung all with shining drops, and the river will be
Duller because of the all soddenness of things,
Till the skylark breaks his reluctance, hangs shaking, and sings.

The bonniest lass that ye meet neist,
Gie her a kiss an' a' that,
In spite o' ilka parish priest,
Repentin' stool, an' a' that.
For a' that an' a' that
Their mim-mou'd sangs an' a' that
In time and place convenient,
They'll do't themselves for a' that.

Your patriarchs in days o' yore,
Had their handmaids an' a' that;
O' bastard gets, some had a score,
An' some had mair than a' that.
For a' that an' a' that,
Your Langsyne saunts, an' a' that,
Were fonder o' a bonny lass
Than you or I, for a' that.

Chorus

Bonie wee thing, canie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, was thou mine;
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Least my Jewel I should tine. —

Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine;
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,
Least my wee thing be na mine. —
Bonie wee &c.

The bonny wee thing. Subscription in MS Note the first part of the music is repeated, for the Chorus —

Wit, and Grace, and Love, and Beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee is my duty,

The boat moored, lunch in a lonely village;
on the far bank I see a dappled horse,
in lean pasture, gaunt with hunger;
scruffy birds flocking down to peck his feed.
Pity is powerless — I have no bow;
again and again I try to pelt them with clods
but I haven't the strength to manage a hit,
face sweaty and hot with chagrin.

River inn spring hangover — half a day's delay,
plus troubling the governor to send over wine so I could clear my head.
Masses and masses of willow flowers on the banks of the Chia-ling;
something special — at sky's end, today's case of the dumps!

" Best scene
in the whole play! "
(much blowing of noses)