chūn huā qiū yuè hé shí le ，
wǎng shì zhī duō shǎo 。
xiǎo lóu zuó yè yòu dōng fēng ，
gù guó bù kān huí shǒu yuè míng zhòng 。
diāo lán yù qì yìng yóu zài ，
zhǐ shì zhū 颜gǎi 。
wèn jūn néng yǒu jī duō chóu ，
qìa shì yī jiāng chūn shuǐ xiàng dōng liú 。
(李煜Li Yu, Jinling (now Nanjing) 937- 975)
Flowers in spring, moonlight in fall,
when will they ever end?
and how much can we know
of what is past and gone?
Upstairs in my room last night
the east wind came again;
I cannot bear to turn and look home
In the light of the moon.
Its carved railings and marble pavements
are, I'm sure, still there –
all that changes is the flush
on the face of youth.
Tell me then of sorrow – how much can there be?
It is exactly like:
a whole river of springtime waters
flowing off to the East.
(Translation Stephen Owen- An anthology of Chinese literature)