The Palace Woman of Han Tan Becomes the Wife of the Soldiers’ Cook
By Li T’ai-Po
Once the Unworthy One was a maiden of the Ts’ung Terrace.
Joyfully lifting my moth-pencilled eyebrows, I entered the carnation-coloured Palace.
Relying on myself, my flower-like face,
How should I know that it would wither and fade?
Banished below the jade steps,
Gone as the early morning clouds are gone,
Whenever I think of Han Tan City
I dream of the Autumn moon from the middle of the Palace.
I cannot see the Prince, my Lord.
Desolate, my longing—until daylight comes.