Ten years of life and death lie vast between us.
I don't try to think about it.
I can't forget it.
A thousand li from your lonely grave,
I have nowhere to speak of the coldness.
Even if we met again, we would not know each other.
Dust fills the face of one,
the hair of the other is like snow.
The night comes, an eerie dream suddenly takes me back home.
At the little room's window.
You are there combing and pinning your hair.
We look at each other wordlessly,
only tears fall in a thousand streams.
It may be that year after year that place will break my heart.
The bright moonlit night,
the spare pine on that mound.
--Su Shi (1037-1101) [ 蘇軾] wrote this poem after dreaming of his wife who had died ten years earlier.
江城子
年生死兩茫茫。
不思量。
自難忘。
千里孤墳，
無處話淒涼。
縱使相逢應不識，
塵滿面，
鬢如霜。
夜來幽夢忽還鄉。
小軒窗。
正梳妝。
相顧無言，
惟有淚千行。
料得年年斷腸處，
明月夜，
短松岡。
