The west and east are severed by misty trees,
We cannot see the eastern road as we please.
I think I can go there only in dream,
Where I may not fear to be barred by the stream.
I’ve written countless letters by lamplight,
And tried to find a messenger, but in vain.
E’en if I may confide them to wild geese in flight,
It will be late autumn again.
江水西头隔烟树，
望不见江东路。
思量只有梦来去，
更不怕，江阑住。
灯前写了书无数，
算没个人传与。
直说寻得雁吩咐，
又还是，秋将暮。