To Li Chien

The province I govern is humble and remote;

Yet our festivals follow the Courtly Calendar.

At rise of day we sacrificed to the Wind God,

When darkly, darkly, dawn glimmered in the sky.

Officers followed, horsemen led the way;

They brought us out to the wastes beyond the town,

Where river mists fall heavier than rain,

And the fires on the hill leap higher than the stars.

Suddenly I remembered the early levees at Court

When you and I galloped to the Purple Yard.

As we walked our horses up Dragon Tail Street

We turned our heads and gazed at the Southern Hills.

Since we parted, both of us have been growing old;

And our minds have been vexed by many anxious cares.

Yet even now I fancy my ears are full

Of the sound of jade tinkling on your bridle-straps.