Mid-autumn Festival on Hainan Island,
Banana leaves are rustling,
Long’an fruits are hanging low.
But this morning blossom, that evening moon
Are lost upon me from too many rains and gales.
When a tense heart stirs up a ten force tempest,
It tosses adrift, and adrift,
Not knowing where to anchor and rest.

The path is decided, no roses strewn,
No regret excited.
The soft moonlight will take you to dream.
A gentle mind for which you yearn
Will also value tender feeling.
Let my blood not flow so fast.
A mere proud heart of twenty-four summers
Can’t have the world changed.

A firm shoulder
To pillow a weary head.
A pair of hands
To pillar the gravest hour.
Yes, I know:
A whole life should be on a tray to offer.
If so much is reserved,
That much will be grieved.