The Unrequited Lover
T’ai Wang-Shu

I fancy that I’m an unrequited lover
But I know not whom I love.
Maybe a land in faint haze by the sea,
Maybe a flower withering in silence,
Maybe some beauty met on a road and then forgotten:
I cannot tell.
As if I were in love
My bosom swells, my heart throbs ever faster.

Tired, I would wander through dark streets,
Wander through all riotous places
And think not to return, as if in search of something,
A floating pin-point of bewitching eye,
Sweet words that touch the ear—
Such incidents are common;
But I would say in a low voice: “Not you!”
And stagger on elsewhere.

“Night-walker” people call me.
Let them!—it’s all the same to me.
In sooth I am a lonely night-walker,
A lover unrequited.