漫漫雪收春還 翩翩淺袖輕衫 燈花滿盤畫簾捲 惘惘未成舊願 恍恍新歲又添 悲增淚減夢存殘 寒更幾轉 圓月數剪 也曾念 山河遍歷共與君前 萬萬 千千 此間 山灰作炭 因火成煙 無以為盼 煙綠茶閒 於心可安 一念之遠 一筆經年 漫漫雪收春還 翩翩淺袖輕衫 燈花滿盤畫簾捲 惘惘未成舊願 恍恍新歲又添 悲增淚減夢存殘 寒更幾轉 圓月數剪 也曾念 山河遍歷共與君前 萬萬 千千 此間 山灰作炭 因火成煙 無以為盼 煙綠茶閒 於心可安 一念之遠 一筆經年
Here’s a faithful, poetic English translation — aiming to keep the mood, imagery, and rhythm rather than going word-for-word.
As endless snow fades, spring returns.
Light sleeves flutter, thin robes drift.
Lamp blossoms fill the tray, painted curtains roll aside.
Lost in thought — old wishes still unfulfilled.
Dazed, another new year is added.
Sorrow grows, tears lessen, dreams remain broken.
Cold night watches turn again and again,
The full moon cut and counted in fragments.
I once remembered—
Roaming mountains and rivers, standing before them with you.
Ten thousand, a thousand — all within this moment.
Mountains turn to ash,
Ash to charcoal,
Charcoal to smoke by fire.
Nothing left to hope for.
Smoke-green tea rests idly,
The heart, at least, can be at peace.
One thought feels distant,
One stroke spans an entire year.
As endless snow fades, spring returns.
Light sleeves flutter, thin robes drift.
Lamp blossoms fill the tray, painted curtains roll aside.
Lost in thought — old wishes still unfulfilled.
Dazed, another new year is added.
Sorrow grows, tears lessen, dreams remain broken.
Cold night watches turn again and again,
The full moon cut and counted in fragments.
I once remembered—
Roaming mountains and rivers, standing before them with you.
Ten thousand, a thousand — all within this moment.
Mountains turn to ash,
Ash to charcoal,
Charcoal to smoke by fire.
Nothing left to hope for.
Smoke-green tea rests idly,
The heart, at least, can be at peace.
One thought feels distant,
One stroke spans an entire year.
I’ll explain it by sections, then give you the core meaning.
1. Time moves on, whether the heart is ready or not
「漫漫雪收春還」
Endless snow withdraws; spring returns.
Snow = hardship, grief, emotional winter.
Spring returning is inevitable, not celebrated. Life moves on even when the heart hasn’t caught up.
This already sets the tone:
The world heals faster than the person.
2. Youth, gentleness, and a memory frozen in beauty
「翩翩淺袖輕衫」
Light sleeves flutter, thin robes drift.
This recalls a past moment — youth, grace, perhaps a loved one.
It’s not just clothing; it’s how memory softens people.
You remember them not as they were at the end, but at their most beautiful.
3. The quiet interior world
「燈花滿盤畫簾捲」
Lamp blossoms fill the tray; painted curtains roll up.
Lamp blossoms = burnt-out wick flowers, a classic symbol of long nights and waiting.
Painted curtains = private space, inner life.
This is someone awake late, alone, thinking too much.
4. Regret that time cannot fix
「惘惘未成舊願」
Lost and dazed, old wishes remain unfulfilled.
Not dramatic regret — worse: unfinished regret.
Things that never even got a chance to fail.
5. The cruelty of New Year
「恍恍新歲又添」
Dazed, another new year is added.
New Year usually means hope.
Here it means time piling up without resolution.
The pain isn’t sharp — it’s dull and accumulating.
6. Grief changes shape, not weight
「悲增淚減夢存殘」
Sorrow grows, tears lessen; broken dreams remain.
Early grief cries loudly.
Later grief goes quiet — but deeper.
You cry less, but hurt more.
7. Long nights and fractured wholeness
「寒更幾轉」
Cold night watches turn again and again.
Sleepless nights.
「圓月數剪」
The full moon is cut and counted.
The moon is whole, but the heart experiences it in fragments.
Time feels chopped, not flowing.
8. Memory of shared life
「也曾念 山河遍歷共與君前」
I once remembered roaming mountains and rivers with you.
This isn’t just travel — it means living life side by side.
“山河” implies the whole world.
This line carries tenderness, not bitterness.
9. Infinity contained in one moment
「萬萬 千千 此間」
Ten thousand, a thousand — all within this moment.
All the memories, years, emotions collapse into one quiet instant.
This is emotional compression.
10. Loss as irreversible transformation
「山灰作炭 因火成煙」
Mountains turn to ash, ash to charcoal, charcoal to smoke.
This is profound.
Nothing is destroyed — everything transforms.
But once it becomes smoke, you can’t hold it anymore.
Love didn’t vanish.
It changed into something untouchable.
11. Letting go of hope — not life
「無以為盼」
Nothing left to hope for.
This is not despair — it’s resignation.
Hope has exhausted itself.
12. Ordinary peace after devastation
「煙綠茶閒 於心可安」
Smoke-green tea, leisurely; the heart can be at peace.
After everything burns, what remains is simple survival.
Not joy.
Not excitement.
Just… peace enough.
This is very mature grief.
13. Distance of thought, weight of time
「一念之遠 一筆經年」
One thought feels distant; one stroke spans a year.
A single memory feels far away,
yet writing it takes a whole year’s worth of emotion.
Time inside ≠ time outside.
Core meaning (in one breath)
This poem is about:
-
Love that didn’t complete
-
Time moving on without healing everything
-
Grief that matures into quiet acceptance
-
Letting go of hope while keeping inner peace
It doesn’t scream.
It endures.
