To the tune of "Wu Ling Spring" <br /> <br />Wind ceased, the dust is scented <br /> with the fallen flowers. <br />Though day is getting late, I am too weary <br /> to attend to my hair. <br />Things remain as ever, yet he is here no more, <br /> and all is finished. <br />Fain would I speak, but tears flow first. <br /> <br />They say that at the Twin Brooks <br /> spring is still fair. <br />I, too, wish to row a boat there. <br />But I am afraid that the little skiff <br /> on the Twin Brooks <br />Could not bear the heavy load of my grief.<br /><br />Li Ching Chao<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tz-u-no-17-he-is-gone/
