Cuckoo's Crows Poem by East Sea Fairy Xing Yi

By Zhang XianTranslated by East-sea Fairy

Once again,
two or three of the cuckoo's crows
announce that the splendor of spring is to wane.
I, who particularly cherish its splendid shows,
become more than ever eager to pick up the lingering blooms and blows.
However rough blows the wind; Gentle is the rain soft and light,
It happens to be late spring when green the plums grows,
but I can only see that the weeping willows, growing in the bleak garden barren quite
on Ever-harvest lane drop all day long catkins snow white.

Be sure not to fiddle with the short string
of the Chinese lute,
for it has difficulty in expressing
my sorrowful sadness of a strong root.
Heaven won't grow aged, were it owns emotional attribute.
True feelings never die out quite.
A loving heart is like the double-silk-thread-knotted wet which has a million knots cute.
Gone is midnight.
With the waning moon there, the eastern sky hasn't turned bright.