No Title (Hard to Meet and Harder to Part)

No Title (Hard to Meet and Harder to Part)

It was hard to meet, and it's hard to part;

The east wind is powerless, the hundred flowers wither.

The spring silkworm spins its thread until death;

The candle turns to ash before its tears are dry.

At the morning mirror, she fears her cloud-like hair is changing;

Chanting at night, she should feel the moonlight's cold.

Penglai is not far from here—

The bluebird, I beg you, go and see for me.