When I think of You
Like a lingering drop of rain
Pressed beneath the eaves,
Falling upon green tiles and white walls,
Shattering into the early March pond,
Stirring faint ripples—
Just like the curve of my lips
When I whisper your name.
The sudden downpour rushes down,
Carrying an unrelenting resolve,
Disrupting the quiet of the bamboo grove.
Even the window lattice echoes
With a longing that refuses to fade,
Resounding through an empty chamber,
Among spring’s crimson cherry blossoms.
At midnight, lilies sigh,
Pale robes steeped in yearning,
Eyes holding traces of dawn’s glow.
Wanting to fall into a deep slumber,
Yet drawn to the flickering candlelight,
Where sorrow rises with the day.
Occasionally, a wisp of blue flame
Flickers over the desolate lamp.
Longing—
Like the pale moon seeping into the flower’s core,
Unable to resist life,
Unable to resist
It is the primal thirst for the sun.
