Down South

     After the Chinese of Li Yü (d. 978 CE)

Down South, they know what to do with springtime.

There, when my thoughts turn away

     from duty and empire, I imagine myself,

where the spring is already in progress.

Pleasure boats are in every lake now,

     the er-hu fiddles a-hum, the flute girls

exchanging shy looks with the young scholars.

The green-faced rivers are drunk with willows,

towns dust-clogged with their yellow catkins,

more flowers abloom than eye or hand can capture.

Busy are those who love this blossoming,

    busier still their sleepless nights of loving.