Monarch of Han, he doted on beauty, yearned for a bewitching temptress;
Through the dominions of his sway, for many years he sought but did not find her.
There was in the family of Yang a maiden just then reaching fullness,
Raised in the women's quarters protected, unacquainted yet with others.
Heaven had given her a ravishing form, impossible for her to hide,
And one morning she was chosen for placement at the side of the sovereign king.
When she glanced behind with a single smile, a hundred seductions were quickened;
All the powdered and painted ones in the Six Palaces now seemed without beauty of face.
In the coolness of springtime, she was permitted to bathe in the Huach'ing pools,
Where the slickening waters of the hot springs washed over her firm flesh.
Supported as she rose by a waiting-maid, she was so delicate, listless:
This was the moment when first she acceded to His favor and beneficence.
Cloud-swept tresses, flowery features, quivering hair-pendants of gold,
And behind the warmth of lotus-bloom drapings, they passed the springtime nights—
Springtime nights so grievously brief, as the sun rose again high!
From this time onward the sovereign king no longer held early court.
Taken with pleasure, she attended on the feasts, continuing without let;
Springtime followed springtime outing, evening after evening she controlled.
Of the comely beauties of the rear palace, there were three thousand persons,
And preferments and affection for all three thousand were placed on her alone.
In her golden room, with makeup perfect, the Delicate One serves for the night;
In a tower of jade, with the feast concluded, drunkenness befits love in spring.
Her sisters and brothers, older or younger, all were enfeoffed with land;
The most enviable brilliance and glory quickened their doorways and gates.
Then it came to pass, throughout the empire, that the hearts of fathers and mothers
No longer valued the birth of a son but valued the birth of daughters.
The high sites of Mount Li's palace reached into clouds in the blue,
And transcendent music, wafted on the wind, was heard there everywhere.
Measured songs, languorous dancing merged with sound of strings and bamboo,
As the sovereign king looked on all day long, never getting enough . . .
Until, out of Yü-yang, horse-borne war-drums came, shaking the earth,
To dismay and smash the melody of “Rainbow Skirts and Feathered Vestments.”
*****
By the nine-layered walls and watchtowers, dust and smoke arose,
And a thousand chariots, ten thousand riders moved off to the southwest.
The halcyon-plumed banners jounced and joggled along, moving and stopping again,
As they went forth westward from the metropolis' gates, something more than a hundred tricents.
And then the Six Armies would go no farther—there was no other recourse,
But the fluently curved moth-eyebrows must die before the horses.
Floriform filigrees were strewn on the ground, to be retrieved by no one,
Halcyon tailfeathers, an aigrette of gold, and hairpins made of jade.
The sovereign king covered his face—he could not save her;
When he looked back, it was with tears of blood that mingled in their flow.
*****
Yellowish grit spreads and scatters, as the wind blows drear and doleful;
Cloudy walkways turn and twist, climbing Saber Gallery's heights.
Below Mount Omei there are very few men who pass by;
Lightless now are the pennons and flags in the sun's dimmer aura.
Waters of Shu's streams deepest blue, the mountains of Shu are green—
For the Paragon, the Ruler, dawn to dawn, night upon night, his feelings:
Seeing the moon from his transient palace—a sight that tears at his heart;
Hearing small bells in the evening rain—a sound that stabs his insides.
*****
Heaven revolves, the days roll on, and the dragon carriage was turned around;
Having reached the spot, faltering he haltered, unable to leave it again.
But amidst that muddy earth, below Ma-wei Slope,
Her jade countenance was not to be seen—just a place of empty death.
Sovereign and servants beheld each other, cloaks wet from weeping;
And, looking east, to the metropolis' gates, let their horses take them homeward.
*****
Returned home now, and the ponds, the pools, all were as before—
The lotuses of Grand Ichor Pool, the willows by the Night-is-Young Palace.
The lotus blossoms resemble her face, the willow branches her eyebrows;
Confronted with this, would it be possible that his tears should not fall?
From the day that peach and plum flowers open, in the springtime breezes,
Until the leaves of the “we-together” tree are shed in the autumn rain. . . .
The West Palace and the Southern Interior were rife with autumn grasses,
And fallen leaves covered the steps, their red not swept away.
The artistes, once young, of the Pear Garden have hair gone newly white;
The Pepper Room attendants and their budding nymphs are become aged now.
Fireflies flit through the hall-room at dusk, as he yearns in desolation;
When all the wick of his lone lamp is used, sleep still fails to come.
Ever later, more dilatory, sound the watch-drum and bell in the lengthening nights;
Fitfully sparkling, the River of Stars streams onward to the dawn-flushed sky.
The roof-tiles, paired as love-ducks, grow chilled, and flowers of frost grow thick;
The halcyon-plumed coverlet is cold—whom would he share it with?
Dim-distanced, far-faded, are the living from the dead, parted more than a year ago;
Neither her soul nor her spirit have ever yet come into his dreams.
*****
A Taoist adept from Lin-ch'iung, a visitor to the Hung-tu Gate,
Could use the perfection of his essential being to contact souls and spirits.
Because of his broodings the sovereign king, tossing and turning, still yearned;
So he set to task this adept of formulas, to search for her sedulously.
Cleaving the clouds, driving the ethers, fleeting as a lightning-flash,
Ascending the heavens, entering into the earth, he sought her out everywhere.
On high he traversed the sky's cyan drop-off, and below to the Yellow Springs;
In both places, to the limits of vision, she was nowhere to be seen.
Of a sudden he heard rumor then of a transcendent mountain in the sea,
A mountain resting in void and nullity, amidst the vaporous seemings.
High buildings and galleries shimmer there brightly, and five-colored clouds mount up;
In the midst of this, relaxed and unhurried, were hosts of tender sylphs.
And in their midst was one, known as Greatest Perfection,
Whose snow-white skin and flower-like features appeared to resemble hers .
In the western wing of the gatehouse of gold, he knocked at the jade bolting,
In turn setting in motion Little Jade who made report to Doubly Completed.
When word was told of the Son of Heaven's envoy, from the House of Han,
Then, within the nine-flowered drapings, her dreaming spirit startled.
She searched for her cloak, pushed pillow aside, arose, walked forth distractedly;
Door-screens of pearl, partitions of silver, she opened out one after another.
With her cloud-chignon half-mussed to one side, newly awakened from sleep,
With flowered cap set awry, down she came to the ceremonial hall.
Her sylphine sleeves, puffed by a breeze, were lifted, flared and fluttering,
Just the same as in the dance of “Rainbow Skirts and Feathered Vestments.”
But her jade countenance looked bleak, forlorn, crisscrossed with tears—
A single branch of pear blossom, in springtime laden with rain.
Restraining her feelings, focusing her gaze, she asked her sovereign king's indulgence:
“Once we were parted, both voice and face were lost to limitless vagueness.
There, within Chao-yang Basilica, affection and favor were cut short,
While here in P'eng-lai's palaces, the days and months have lengthened.
“Turning my head and looking down to the sites of the mortal sphere,
I can no longer see Ch'ang-an, what I see is dust and fog.
Let me take up these familiar old objects to attest to my deep love:
The filigree case, the two-pronged hairpin of gold, I entrust to you to take back.
“Of the hairpin but one leg remains, and one leaf-fold of the case;
The hairpin is broken in its yellow gold, and the case's filigree halved.
But if only his heart is as enduring as the filigree and the gold,
Above in heaven, or amidst men, we shall surely see each other.”
As the envoy was to depart, she entrusted poignantly to him words as well,
Words in which there was a vow that only two hearts would know:
“On the seventh day of the seventh month, in the Hall of Protracted Life,
At the night's mid-point, when we spoke alone, with no one else around—
‘In heaven, would that we might become birds of coupled wings!
On earth, would that we might be trees of intertwining limbs! . . .’ ”
Heaven is lasting, earth long-standing, but there is a season for their end;
This regret stretches on and farther, with no ending time.
Through the dominions of his sway, for many years he sought but did not find her.
There was in the family of Yang a maiden just then reaching fullness,
Raised in the women's quarters protected, unacquainted yet with others.
Heaven had given her a ravishing form, impossible for her to hide,
And one morning she was chosen for placement at the side of the sovereign king.
When she glanced behind with a single smile, a hundred seductions were quickened;
All the powdered and painted ones in the Six Palaces now seemed without beauty of face.
In the coolness of springtime, she was permitted to bathe in the Huach'ing pools,
Where the slickening waters of the hot springs washed over her firm flesh.
Supported as she rose by a waiting-maid, she was so delicate, listless:
This was the moment when first she acceded to His favor and beneficence.
Cloud-swept tresses, flowery features, quivering hair-pendants of gold,
And behind the warmth of lotus-bloom drapings, they passed the springtime nights—
Springtime nights so grievously brief, as the sun rose again high!
From this time onward the sovereign king no longer held early court.
Taken with pleasure, she attended on the feasts, continuing without let;
Springtime followed springtime outing, evening after evening she controlled.
Of the comely beauties of the rear palace, there were three thousand persons,
And preferments and affection for all three thousand were placed on her alone.
In her golden room, with makeup perfect, the Delicate One serves for the night;
In a tower of jade, with the feast concluded, drunkenness befits love in spring.
Her sisters and brothers, older or younger, all were enfeoffed with land;
The most enviable brilliance and glory quickened their doorways and gates.
Then it came to pass, throughout the empire, that the hearts of fathers and mothers
No longer valued the birth of a son but valued the birth of daughters.
The high sites of Mount Li's palace reached into clouds in the blue,
And transcendent music, wafted on the wind, was heard there everywhere.
Measured songs, languorous dancing merged with sound of strings and bamboo,
As the sovereign king looked on all day long, never getting enough . . .
Until, out of Yü-yang, horse-borne war-drums came, shaking the earth,
To dismay and smash the melody of “Rainbow Skirts and Feathered Vestments.”
*****
By the nine-layered walls and watchtowers, dust and smoke arose,
And a thousand chariots, ten thousand riders moved off to the southwest.
The halcyon-plumed banners jounced and joggled along, moving and stopping again,
As they went forth westward from the metropolis' gates, something more than a hundred tricents.
And then the Six Armies would go no farther—there was no other recourse,
But the fluently curved moth-eyebrows must die before the horses.
Floriform filigrees were strewn on the ground, to be retrieved by no one,
Halcyon tailfeathers, an aigrette of gold, and hairpins made of jade.
The sovereign king covered his face—he could not save her;
When he looked back, it was with tears of blood that mingled in their flow.
*****
Yellowish grit spreads and scatters, as the wind blows drear and doleful;
Cloudy walkways turn and twist, climbing Saber Gallery's heights.
Below Mount Omei there are very few men who pass by;
Lightless now are the pennons and flags in the sun's dimmer aura.
Waters of Shu's streams deepest blue, the mountains of Shu are green—
For the Paragon, the Ruler, dawn to dawn, night upon night, his feelings:
Seeing the moon from his transient palace—a sight that tears at his heart;
Hearing small bells in the evening rain—a sound that stabs his insides.
*****
Heaven revolves, the days roll on, and the dragon carriage was turned around;
Having reached the spot, faltering he haltered, unable to leave it again.
But amidst that muddy earth, below Ma-wei Slope,
Her jade countenance was not to be seen—just a place of empty death.
Sovereign and servants beheld each other, cloaks wet from weeping;
And, looking east, to the metropolis' gates, let their horses take them homeward.
*****
Returned home now, and the ponds, the pools, all were as before—
The lotuses of Grand Ichor Pool, the willows by the Night-is-Young Palace.
The lotus blossoms resemble her face, the willow branches her eyebrows;
Confronted with this, would it be possible that his tears should not fall?
From the day that peach and plum flowers open, in the springtime breezes,
Until the leaves of the “we-together” tree are shed in the autumn rain. . . .
The West Palace and the Southern Interior were rife with autumn grasses,
And fallen leaves covered the steps, their red not swept away.
The artistes, once young, of the Pear Garden have hair gone newly white;
The Pepper Room attendants and their budding nymphs are become aged now.
Fireflies flit through the hall-room at dusk, as he yearns in desolation;
When all the wick of his lone lamp is used, sleep still fails to come.
Ever later, more dilatory, sound the watch-drum and bell in the lengthening nights;
Fitfully sparkling, the River of Stars streams onward to the dawn-flushed sky.
The roof-tiles, paired as love-ducks, grow chilled, and flowers of frost grow thick;
The halcyon-plumed coverlet is cold—whom would he share it with?
Dim-distanced, far-faded, are the living from the dead, parted more than a year ago;
Neither her soul nor her spirit have ever yet come into his dreams.
*****
A Taoist adept from Lin-ch'iung, a visitor to the Hung-tu Gate,
Could use the perfection of his essential being to contact souls and spirits.
Because of his broodings the sovereign king, tossing and turning, still yearned;
So he set to task this adept of formulas, to search for her sedulously.
Cleaving the clouds, driving the ethers, fleeting as a lightning-flash,
Ascending the heavens, entering into the earth, he sought her out everywhere.
On high he traversed the sky's cyan drop-off, and below to the Yellow Springs;
In both places, to the limits of vision, she was nowhere to be seen.
Of a sudden he heard rumor then of a transcendent mountain in the sea,
A mountain resting in void and nullity, amidst the vaporous seemings.
High buildings and galleries shimmer there brightly, and five-colored clouds mount up;
In the midst of this, relaxed and unhurried, were hosts of tender sylphs.
And in their midst was one, known as Greatest Perfection,
Whose snow-white skin and flower-like features appeared to resemble hers .
In the western wing of the gatehouse of gold, he knocked at the jade bolting,
In turn setting in motion Little Jade who made report to Doubly Completed.
When word was told of the Son of Heaven's envoy, from the House of Han,
Then, within the nine-flowered drapings, her dreaming spirit startled.
She searched for her cloak, pushed pillow aside, arose, walked forth distractedly;
Door-screens of pearl, partitions of silver, she opened out one after another.
With her cloud-chignon half-mussed to one side, newly awakened from sleep,
With flowered cap set awry, down she came to the ceremonial hall.
Her sylphine sleeves, puffed by a breeze, were lifted, flared and fluttering,
Just the same as in the dance of “Rainbow Skirts and Feathered Vestments.”
But her jade countenance looked bleak, forlorn, crisscrossed with tears—
A single branch of pear blossom, in springtime laden with rain.
Restraining her feelings, focusing her gaze, she asked her sovereign king's indulgence:
“Once we were parted, both voice and face were lost to limitless vagueness.
There, within Chao-yang Basilica, affection and favor were cut short,
While here in P'eng-lai's palaces, the days and months have lengthened.
“Turning my head and looking down to the sites of the mortal sphere,
I can no longer see Ch'ang-an, what I see is dust and fog.
Let me take up these familiar old objects to attest to my deep love:
The filigree case, the two-pronged hairpin of gold, I entrust to you to take back.
“Of the hairpin but one leg remains, and one leaf-fold of the case;
The hairpin is broken in its yellow gold, and the case's filigree halved.
But if only his heart is as enduring as the filigree and the gold,
Above in heaven, or amidst men, we shall surely see each other.”
As the envoy was to depart, she entrusted poignantly to him words as well,
Words in which there was a vow that only two hearts would know:
“On the seventh day of the seventh month, in the Hall of Protracted Life,
At the night's mid-point, when we spoke alone, with no one else around—
‘In heaven, would that we might become birds of coupled wings!
On earth, would that we might be trees of intertwining limbs! . . .’ ”
Heaven is lasting, earth long-standing, but there is a season for their end;
This regret stretches on and farther, with no ending time.