Classic Poem

The spring here in Tien-nan
is like spring at Brocade River:
waters ripple with fish,
willows knit moth-brows.
A thousand trees of pear blossom,
and under blossom, cushion-soft grass.
Clear sky and warm breeze are richer than wine,
infusing coquettes' eyes,
intoxicating travelers.
Pliant thread, weak catkins
soft in the red dust;
jealous of this fragrant time,
they tire the traveler out.
Crying birds startle my heart:
why do they keep calling, " Go back home! "
It's not that I don't want to, but I simply cannot now;
sad, I gaze afar,
tears moistening my robe.