I am in love with a child dreaming at the window.
Not for her elaborate house
On the banks of the Yellow River;
But for a willow-leaf she has let fall
Into the water.
I am in love with the east breeze.
Not that he brings the scent of the flowering of peaches
White on Eastern Hill;
But that he has drifted the willow-leaf
Against my boat.
I am in love with the willow-leaf.
Not that he speaks of green spring
Coming to us again;
But that the dreaming girl
Pricked there a name with her embroidery needle,
And the name is mine.
From the Chinese of Chang Chiu Ling (675-740)