After a creak of the door
　　A thousand years of silence
　　Slow fluid of Song Ci
　　Stretches long and unbroken
　　From the untouchable tender of forefathers
　　To the vacuum in my chest
　　Vacant for a thousand years
　　Now brimming with sorrow
　　Who dare say
　　That sorrow is not a style of writing
　　Broken bridge, dead water, thatched cottage,
　　Aren’t they desolate?
　　Ancient lane,west wind, lean horse,
　　Aren’t they gloomy?
　　Yellow leaves, setting sun, parting with a beloved singing girl,
　　Isn’t it heart-breaking?
　　Drizzly rain, faded blossom, drinking some solitary cold wine,
　　Isn’t it grief-afflicting?
　　Song Ci is sorrow
　　Sorrow Song Ci
　　Who could deny
　　That sorrow is a style of life
　　when dusk fades into eve
　　Tender is the night
　　Sweet is my lady
　　Even if she’s so sweet
　　That the moon hides her face and
　　The flowers blush for shame at the sight of
　　Her
　　She’s not, not
　　My love
　　My love died ten years ago
　　Her tomb ten thousand miles away
　　Nowhere to unbosom my grief
　　Dust is my face
　　Frost are my sideburns
　　How much wind and rain can a man endure?
　　Is the deep on his forehead carved by wind
　　Or burned by the sun?
　　How thick
　　is the callus around his heart
　　lying beside my sweet lady
　　all I dream is
　　moonlight shadow
　　low pine grove
　　sorrow is a style
　　once you read into its lines
　　you melt
　　you squeeze
　　with millions of souls
　　lonely together.

　　P.S. The touching story of Sushi is alluded here. The death of his first wife Wangfu reduced him into the most heart-broken man. Though his second wife, a first cousin of Wangfu, is more beautiful than his ex, she is unfortunately not as considerate or as virtuous. With agony intensifying year in and year out, Sushi’s love for his ex-wife never changed. After ten years of her death, he wrote one of the most famous elegy.

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