Lament by the River (Du Fu: Lament by the River)

The old man from Shaoling—a rustic of the place where Emperor Xuan of Han was buried in Duling and Empress Xu in the Southern Garden, called the Little Mound, later known as Shaoling, where Du Fu had his home—choked back his sobs and wept, stealing a walk in spring along the bend of the Qu River. The thousand gates of the palaces by the river stood locked tight; for whom did the tender willows and new rushes turn green? I recall the rainbow-like banners descending upon the Southern Park, where every thing in the garden shone with fresh splendor. In Zhaoyang Hall, the most favored one shared the emperor’s carriage, attending at his side. Before the carriage, court ladies bore bows and arrows; white horses bit at golden bits. She turned and shot toward the clouds in the sky, and with one arrow struck the wings of a pair of birds in flight. Where now are those bright eyes and pearly teeth? The blood-stained wandering soul cannot return. The clear Wei River flows eastward, and the Sword Gateway lies far away; those who left and those who stayed have no news of each other. Human feelings, possessed of love, wet the breast with tears; do the river waters and river flowers have an end? At dusk, the barbarian horsemen stir up dust filling the city; wanting to go south of the city, I forget the direction southward (some versions read: “gaze toward the north of the city”).