Classic Poem

In the ninth month when west winds blow,
when moonlight is cold and dew blossoms congeal,
I think of you all the long autumn night —
in one night my spirit leaps up nine times.
In the second month when the east wind comes,
when grasses sprout and the hearts of flowers unfold,
I think of you through the slow spring days —
one day and my heart takes nine turnings.
I live north of Lo River bridge,
you live south of Lo River bridge.
Since I was fifteen I've known you,
and this year I'll be twenty-three.
Like the dodder plant growing
by the side of the pine,
my tendrils are short, the branches much too high —
twine and coil as I may, I cannot reach them.
They say when a person has a wish,
if the wish is worthy, Heaven will surely grant it.
I wish we could be beasts in some faraway place,
sauntering, sauntering shoulder to shoulder.
I wish we could be trees deep in the mountains,
touching, twining limb around limb.