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In the bride's house the troubled mother said:
"Lanzhi, the Prefect's messengers have come.
The welcoming party will arrive full soon.
'Tis time you donned your bridal finery.
You have agreed ... No time to tarry now!"
Lanzhi, too sad to utter any word,
Sobbed neath her kerchief to conceal her grief,
Her pale, pale cheeks all wet with bitter tears.
She dragged a chair with heavy marble seat
Towards the window where there was more light,
Took silk and scissors, measure, needle, braid,
Cut out in grief and wet her thread with tears.
Ere noon a jacket new and skirt she made;
By eve a wedding gown was all complete.
Then in the twilight, desperate, forlorn,
Out at the gate she stole to weep alone.
Then, suddenly, her sobbing died away...
Far off she heard a horse's anguished neigh!
Oh, that familiar neigh! Yet why so sore?
Indeed Zhongqing was riding fast that way.
The master had heard news, lost heart, asked leave.
The very steed, too, his forebodings shared.
At last, her straining eyes perceived him clear:
His presence filled her with both joy and pain.
Patting the horse, she heaved a woeful sigh.
"Zhongqing, my darling, at our parting dire
None could foresee the course events would take.
You cannot guess my abject misery,
But all we hoped is now an empty dream.
My mother you knew well. my tyrant brother,
'Twas he who schemed to wed me to another.
Now that the die is cast by fate austere,
What more can you expect of me,
my dear?"
Zhongqing, heart-stricken, forced himself to say,
"May you know every happiness, Lanzhi!
The rock stands fixed, unyielding evermore,
But oh! I fear the fibres of the vine
Have lost their toughness all too easily...
May you be rich and live in happy state,
But as for me, why, death shall be my fate!"
That stung her to the quick, but she replied,
"Why say such cruel things to me, my dear?
We both are shipwrecked on the sea of life,
Our vessels foundered by the ruthless gale.
Life has enjoined that man and wife must sever:
Let us both die, and be one flesh for ever!"
Long hand in hand they stayed before they went
With mournful steps and slow their different ways –
Two lovers, parting, knowing all too well
That death alone could make them one again.
All roads to joy fast blocked, they did not quail,
But vowed to terminate their tragic tale.
When Zhongqing, heavy-hearted, reached his home,
Straight to his mother's room he went, and bowed.
"The weather changes, mother. Bitter cold,
A terrifying wind sears leaf and tree.
The frost congeals the orchids, all the flowers,
And Zhongqing's life, too ,draws unto its close.
His sole regret is leaving you alone,
But 'tis his own desire to end life so –
No ghost, no devil, mother, hold him thrall!
Your son is like the rocks of Nanshan Range,
Immutable in death, immune to change."
The mother heard these words in sore amaze,
But guessed their cause, and pitied him in tears.
"My son, sole heir of noble family,
What great and glorious prospects lie ahead!
Why for a wanton should you think to die,
One so inferior in every way?
As I have told you, in the neighborhood
There dwells a paragon of loveliness.
Soon will I send a go-between to her,
And long and happy years be yours, my son!"
But he kept silence, bowed right low, and left,
Long, long is empty room he paced, and thought
A myriad thoughts of Lanzhi, love, and death.
Oft glanced he sadly towards his mother's room;
The world seemed shrouded in a pall of gloom!
The day for Lanzhi's splendid wedding came,
She lonelier than ever mid the throng.
She waited, waited till the night should fall.
At last the turmoil ceased, the guests thinned out.
"This is the day," she mused, "My journey's end.
My soul will wander, though my corpse remain."
The pond's dark waters beckoned, cold and chill.
Barefoot she waded in, and all was still.
Though for the news Zhongqing was half-prepared,
It nowise lighter made the dreadful blow.
Beneath the courtyard trees release he sought,
He turned southeast, and then the rope went taut...
Linked in a common grief, the families
Buried the lovers beside Mount Huashan.
And all around the graveyard grow dark pines,
Through all the changing seasons ever green,
With cypress interspersed and parasol trees.
Like lovingly the leaves and sprays caress;
And in the foliage dwell two little birds,
That mate for life, whose very name is love.
They cross their bills and sing to one another
Their soft endearments all night long till dawn,
And passersby stand spell-bound at the sound,
And lonely windows wake to hear and muse
Upon this story of a bygone day
Which shall endure till all shall pass away.
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