To the tune ‘Immortals on the river bank’
How deep, profoundly deep, the courtyard is.
The windows are cloudy.
Fog penetrates the closed rooms.
Pussy willows and plum buds begin to show,
As Spring returns to the trees of Nanking.
I grow old in this old city.
Songs of love, moon and wind are gone
With the past.
I am old and have accomplished little.
No one cares for me now.
I wither away like last year’s
Scattered leaves.
I have no desire to light the lantern,
No desire to walk in the last snow.
Li Ch’ing-chao , Complete poems (tr Kenneth Rexroth and Ling Chung)
New Directions 1979.
Image: http://pixabay.com/en/cherry-spring-in-japan-cherry-tree-301253/
Gert Loveday's Fun with Books 
Sniff
Cath, you have the soul of a warthog.
The *sniff was a genuine one. Perhaps I should have put *howl of anguish, except it might come across as a bit melodramatic.
It’s a real downer, isn’t it?
Leslie
We must admit we rather like this plaintive tone… How about setting it to music?
Ohhh, I’ll have to give that some thought.
Leslie
Interesting comments. I found the poem accepting rather than sad, certainly not mawkishly sad. And the images are beautiful. Thanks for posting it.
Yes, it feels to me like a life coming to a close that’s part of the natural cycle of things. Good to have you back, Dorothy.