Ou yang Xiu
When the Moon is in the River of Heaven
The frail branches of the arbor
Shelter the roses from the gusts of the East Wind.
Enveloped in a cloud of perfume
Filled with drops of dew.
For whom are they so seductive?
It is only to provoke the fragile
Butterflies and the irascible bees?
My heart swollen with sentimentality,
I wander in this pleasure garden.
And then my drunkenness wears off,
My pleasure goes and soes not return.
The moon, sad enough to tear the bowels,
Sinks to the horizon, and suddenly
The Spring has grown old

(from "One Hundred Poems from the Chinese)

transl. by Kenneth Rexroth