Born in a family nobler by far
Than those under a lucky star,
Poor now I still remain,
After cold wind and rain.
T is said books will bring wealth, beauty and gold,
I'm disappointed to have in vain grown old.
What can I be
But a man right and free?
I study hard till frost
On tortoise's back is lost.
Living from hand to mouth,
A poor scholar loves the south.
Relying on natural gifts better or worse,
I can read and write prose and verse.
Borrowing light and tying my hair,
I've learned the art of writing from on high.
I do not know if my arms can cut the tree down,
Till I have won the laurel crown.
I am Liu Dreamer of Mume Flower and Lover of Spring, the descendent of Liu Zongyuan, poet of the Tang Dynasty, and resident south of the Five Ridges. My father was an official and my mother a county lady. (Sighing) Unfortunately they died early and left me an orphan, living a hard life since my childhood. But fortunately I have grown up to twenty and I am intelligent enough to have passed the three examinations. As I hold no office, I earn a living not free from hunger and cold. My ancestor had an expert gardener Hunchback Guo, whose descendent, also a gardener, keeps me company in Guangzhou. This is not the way for a promising young man, so I feel melancholy all day long. Half a month ago, I dreamed of a fair maiden standing under a mume tree, beautiful just to the point, who told me with a winning smile to win her heart and hand, and also win success in my career, so I changed my name to Dreamer of Mume Flower and Lover of Spring.
Dreams long or short are only dreams;
Years in and out pass like her gleams.
(Singing to the tune of Innermost Feeling):
Though I have changed my name,
How could the beauty know my flame?
I wish to wear the laurel crown,
But I cannot boast of my gown.
The jealous Moon Goddess may wither the flower,
I'll wait until my eyebrows knit
And my heart sours
As if drunken I feel unfit.
(Changing to the tune ofThree Scholars):
I bore a hole for the fireflies,
For eastern walls allow no peeping eyes.
When spring gilds willow trees,
And snowflakes make mumetiers freeze,
Then through the thoroughfare I'll ride,
And choose the silk whip from my bride.
Well, I have here a friend who is descendent of Han Yu, famous scholar of Tang Dynasty, and I would like to profit from his counsel.
Before the door spring shines on mume and willow trees.
How could I dream of royal favor as I please?
Unlike the flower in full bloom my heart appears.
Could I grow old as a pine of ten thousand years?