Classic Poem

My books, my sword, the wind-swept curtain:
I've lost my Meng Kuang!
Tender feelings — I cannot stop them — soften my hard heart.
Distant mountains: their somber silence
quiets this Chang Ch'ang
Flowing waters: their enticing music
misled this Master Juan.
White silk, pressed and sewn into skirts,
I remember those past days.
Green gauze, a thin blanket,
I fear the new frost.
Now I can't bear to see the view
from Feng Shan Pavilion:
the wild ducks are flying in pairs,
and landing on the banks of willows.