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by Li Shangyin
东山 译
It’s not easy to meet and even harder to part,
The east wind is too feeble to revive the withering flowers.
Silkworms will spin silk continuously till their death，
The candle burns down to ashes with its last drop of tears.
At dawn you'd feel dejected to find in the mirror gray hairs，
At night while crooning poems by the moonlight you’d feel chilly.
It is not too far away from the Fairy Penglai Mount，
The Spirit Bluebird will oft fly there to visit you for me.
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