The Chung Fung

Fierce is the wind and cold;
And such is he.
Smiling he looks, and bold
Speaks mockingly.
Scornful and lewd his words,
Haughty his smile.
Bound is my heart with cords
In sorrow’s coil,

As cloud of dust wind-blown,
Just such is he.
Ready he seems to own,
And come to me.
But he comes not nor goes,
Stands in his pride.
Long, long, with painful throes,
Grieved I abide.

Strong blew the wind; the cloud
Hastened away.
Soon dark again, the shroud
Covers the day.
I wake, and sleep no more
Visits my eyes.
His course I sad deplore,
With heavy sighs.

Cloudy the sky, and dark ;
The thunders roll.
Such outward signs well mark
My troubled soul.
I wake, and sleep no more
Comes to give rest.
His course I sad deplore,
In anguished breast.