Classic Poem

The setting sun—a pool of molten gold;
Evening clouds—disks of emerald jade.
Where is he—the one in my thoughts?
Spring willows robed in hazy mist;
“Falling Plum Blossoms” wafted by a plaintive flute:
Lovely springtime—how far is it advanced?
Warm sunshiny weather at the Lantern Festival—
Who knows but it may be
A prelude to wind and rain?
My old wine and poetry companions send
Perfumed coaches, fine horses to take me for a ride,
But I decline all their invitations.

Sweet are memories of our old capital in its heyday!
Young ladies with time to spare
Made the Lantern Festival a special occasion for joy.
In kingfisher-feather caps and
Gold-thread jeweled hair ornaments,
They vied with one another for loveliness.
Now worn with care,
My hair windblown and temples frosty,
I dread going out on festive evenings.
I'd much prefer to stay behind the screen
And listen to youthful talk and laughter
As people pass by.