Yi Tal-Ch’oong. (Circa 1385 A.D.)
One moon of joy I knew,
And in the waning radiance of that moon
I gave you a folding fan.
Your love was lighter than the fragrant wind
Stirred by these sticks of carven sandalwood.
The moon sank down behind the city wall.
How bitter was the wine we drank at dawn!
Soon came the whisper of a silken skirt.
Soon came the perfume of a jasmine flower.
Swiftly for you there rose another moon.
Your new wife’s face is like a jasmine petal
And like a fallen petal it will fade
After the moon goes down.
I think you do not know how cruel you are,
But why was your parting gift to me
Another folding fan?