Advance
with the times again.
Longing for our reunion,
Missing or being missed
Is like an old story,
Still fresh and full of affection.
Such
a sense
Like an invisible long silk thread
Silently looms ahead,
Before the eve of the New Year;
You could hardly cut it off or comb it up.
Like floating clouds decorated by the pure flower,
Keeping the lonely moon company as her partner.
It
is always voiceless,
Moving in tricky silence,
Staggering back and forth,
Stealthily sighing after others.
It
exists everywhere
But unable to be captured in anywhere.
Presumably just around the corner
Or it lies at the Heaven-end.
It’s
more charming than love-peas
Or a wild rose blossoming outside the palace,
Never shedding tears
Until seeing the symbolic flower with a love sense.
Maybe
it was poet Wang Bo’s bosom friend,
Maybe, poet Wang Wei’s later generation.
It always grows in spring season
But lightly intoxicated in autumn.
No
person I miss this year;
My eyes are not full of any tear.
[01/12/2002]
