Classic Poem

BY LI T'AI-PO

I

Bright, bright, the gilded magpie mirror,
Absolutely perfect in front of me on the jade dressing-stand.
Wiped, rubbed, splendid as the Winter moon;
Its light and brilliance, how clear and round!
The rose-red face is older than it was yesterday,
The hair is whiter than it was last year.
The white-lead powder is neglected,
It is useless to look into the mirror. I am utterly miserable.

II

When my Lord went away, he gave me this precious mirror coiled with dragons
That I might gaze at my golden-threaded dress of silken gauze.
Again and again I take my red sleeve and polish the bright moon,
Because I love to see its splendour lighting up everything.
In its centre is my reflection, and the golden magpie which does not fly away.
I sit at my dressing-stand, and I am like the green Fire-Bird who, thinking of its mate, died alone.
My husband is parted from me as an arrow from the bow-string.
I know the day he left; I do not know the year when he will return.
The cruel wind blows — truly the heart of the Unworthy One is cut to pieces.
My tears, like white jade chop-sticks, fall in a single piece before the water-chestnut mirror.