The wind halts. The dust is fragrant
with fallen flowers.
Morning falls into evening.
I am too tired to comb my hair.
Things are the same,
but people changed.
All is finished.
I want to speak,
yet tears flow first.
I hear them say
spring is still good
at Twin Streams.
I would float there
in a light boat,
but fear the grasshopper boats
at Twin Streams
could not bear such sorrow.
—translated from Chinese by Wendy Chen