1. Spring flowers, autumn moon, when will they end?
Of what once was, what's left?
Upstairs last night there was an east wind
Unbearable, in bright moonlight, to look back
Carved railings, jade walkways, should be there still
Only youth has gone
How much more sorrow is to come?
It is a river, fed by spring rain, flowing east
2. Too long the autumn moon and spring flowers last,
I wonder how much they’ve known of my past.
Last night spring breezes through an upper room---
Reminds me to much of my present gloom.
With a bright moon, how could I my country recall ---
Without a sense of defeat and despair at all.
The Palace should be still there as before---
With its carved railings; jade ---like steps galore.
Only here are changes which my plight entail.
My complexion, once ruddy, has become pale.
Should I be asked how much anguish I have found,
Strange! It is like flowing water, eastward bound.
3. Spring flowers and autumn moon –when will they be ended?
How many past events can we tell?
The east wind blew through my small lodge again last night.
The old country, bathed in a bright moon,
Is an overwhelming sight!
Those earved balustrades, those marble terraces, --
They should still be there,
Only the rosy cheeks have faded.
How much sorrow, pray, ean a person carry?
Like the spring torrent flowing eastward, without tarry!
4. When will the endless cycle
of the spring flower and the autumn moon
come to an end?
How much remembrance of the things past
does a heart know?
Last night, in the attic revisited
by the eastern wind,
it was unbearable to look
toward home in the fair moonlight.
The carved rails and the marble steps
must remain unchanged, but not her beauty.
How much sorrow do I have?
It is like the spring flood of a long river flowing east!
5. There is no end to moonlit autumns or to flow’ry springs,
And I have known so very many things.
From my turret the wind was in the east again last night.
A lost land was too much to bear: I turned my head away in the moonlight.
The carven rail and jadework wall are as they were before:
Those rosy cheeks alone are there no more.
Tell me, what is the uttermost extent of pain, you say?
Mine is a very swoll’n in spring and welling east away.
6. Spring blooms, autumn moon, when will they end?
How many yesterdays have passed?
Last night, at my little pavilion, the east wind again!
Oh, when moon is bright, I can’t bear to look back my old kingdom.
Carved balustrades, marmoreal stairs no doubt will remain.
Only the once bright faces have changed.
Ask the sum of grief there’s to bear,
It’s just a river in full spring flood flowing east to sea.
7. Oh when will autumn moon and spring flowers end?
How many past events I've known.
The east wind buffeted my room again last night,
I cannot bear to remember the bright moon of the old country.
The marble steps and carved balustrades must still be there,
The people's rosy cheeks are all that's changed.
How much sorrow can one man have to bear?
As much as a river of spring water flowing east.
8. Spring flowers and autumn leaves,
will they never end?
How many things have happened?
In this little tower, last night,
the east wind blew once more.
Can I bear to look back at the old country
in the bright moon?
The carved hand-rails and marble steps
must still be there,
But not my youthful cheeks.
How much sadness can I bear?
As much as an eastward-flowing river filled with
9. April's blossom and autumn's moon,
will they never end?
Of what once was, how much's gone past!
Yesterday, an east wind stirred the night,
in bright moonshine I dared not to look back,
a heartbreaking sight.
Carved railings, jade walkways
they should still be the same,
only the bloom on the faces bleached away.
How much sorrowness there's dwelling in me?
Like a river, fed by spring rain, flushing to sea.
[translation based upon an earlier version of Wai-lim Yip, "Chinese Poetry", 1976]