Migrating geese can no longer be heard, past broken clouds of cyan-green. Snow falls outside the darkened window, the censer’s smoke rises straight. A phoenix hairpin reflects the candle’s flame. Cutout figures weigh nothing, inserted beside the pin. A garrison horn hurries the water-clock at dawn. The day’s first light comes to Dipper and Ox. Eager for signs of spring, it’s hard to look for blossoms 8 when the west wind retains winter’s chill.
3.8
歸鴻聲斷殘雲碧。
背窗雪落爐煙直。
燭底鳳釵明。
釵頭人勝輕。
角聲催曉漏。
曙色回牛斗。
春意看花難。
西風留舊寒。
To the tune “Boddhisattva Barbarian”
Migrating geese can no longer be heard, past broken clouds of cyan-green.
Snow falls outside the darkened window, the censer’s smoke rises straight.
A phoenix hairpin reflects the candle’s flame. Cutout figures weigh nothing, inserted beside the pin.
A garrison horn hurries the water-clock at dawn. The day’s first light comes to Dipper and Ox.
Eager for signs of spring, it’s hard to look for blossoms 8 when the west wind retains winter’s chill.