往事

The Past （往事）by Yang Tzu-ch’iao

（羊子橋）, translated by John Balcom

The Past

One day, as I happened to glance over the past
I remembered the tea that had long gone cold
These dynastic histories that should have burned long ago
Had unknowingly been worn away
By the face of autumn

On a cold night, we waited, each for the other
It seemed like life’s final exile
In the kingdom of love
Guarding the secret with the moon

Memories are but dewdrops on leaves which
Seemingly could awaken a wonderful tomorrow
But when the sun shows its face
The dream containing love shatters and falls
Making you finally understand
We face life only once but cannot see death