十年生死两茫茫,不思量,自难忘。
千里孤坟,无处话凄凉。
纵使相逢应不识,尘满面,鬓如霜。
夜来幽梦忽还乡,小轩窗,正梳妆。
相顾无言,惟有泪千行。
料得年年肠断处,明月夜,短松冈。
For ten long years the living of the dead knows nought.
Should the dead be forgot
And to mind never brought?
Her lonely grave is a thousand miles away.
To whom can I my grief convey?
Revived e'en if she be,could she still know me?
My face is worn with care
And frosted is my hair.
Last night I dreamed of coming to my native place:
She's making up her face
At the window with grace.
We gazed at each other hushed,
But tears from our eyes gushed.
When I am woken,I fancy her heart-broken
On the mound clad with pines,
Where only the moon shines.
Written at Mizhou.The poet dreamed of his first wife,Wang Fu,whom he married in 1054,when she was fifteen.She died in 1065,and the following year.when the poet's father died,he carried her remains back to his old home in Sichuan and buried them in the family plot,planting a number of little pines around the grave mound.
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