106. TWO LETTERS FROM CHANG-KAN— II -
(Another river-merchant's wife writes) pN^
I lived in my maiden bower, jZr*
Unaware of all things of the world. /
Since married to you of Chang-kan town,
I wander the river bank to spy the weather. S~~T~
In May the south wind blows, ' >l
I think of you sailing down to Pa-ling; («^
In August the west wind arises,
And I know you will part from Yangtzu.
You come and go, I sorrow ever,
Seeing you so little, and living so much apart.
When will you arrive at Hsiang-tan?
My dream goes over the wind-tossed waves.
Last night a storm went past in fury,
Tearing down trees on the riverside,
Spreading darkness without end —
Where were you, then, poor traveler?
Would I could ride the swift-drifting cloud,
And meet you in good time east of Orchid Beach!
Oh, the happy pair of mandarin-ducks among the
reed, And the purple kingfishers, embroidered on the gold
screen ! Why at fifteen years and little more, My face pink like the peach flower, [153]
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