86 LAN-TSIH 



Mute stood Chow and once more kow-towed, 



Then he went into his chamber. 



With his youthful wife to counsel. 



Broken-hearted he embraced her, 



As with violent sobs he whispered : 



"Not by me art thou rejected, 



Unjustly my mother hates thee. 



For a time go to thy parents, 



And I soon will come and fetch thee. 



Pray, do not take this to heart, love. 



I shall truly keep my promise." 



"Why make matters more confused?" 

 Lan-tsih answered. "New Year's season 

 Left I home and crossed this threshold. 

 Faithfully I've served your parents, 

 From my work I rest nights only. 

 Hard I've tried to win their favour. 

 Now, when I'm rejected, never 

 Speak to me of soon returning. 

 When I came I brought as dowry 

 Silken dresses richly broidered, 

 Heavy gold-brocaded curtains, 

 Scent bags sewn into the corners ; 

 Sixty, seventy trunks and boxes 

 Wound around with green silk cording; 

 Diverse things of all descriptions. 

 When a wife is good for nothing, 

 Her belongings can't have value. 

 Mine, I know, are far from suited. 

 To be used by my successor. 

 When I go, I'll take them with me. 

 Cruel fate has us divided." 



Vainly Chow spoke comfort to her, 

 Pleading with her to be patient. 

 Early, when the cock was crowing, 

 Daylight in the East beginning, 

 Lan-tsih rose from troubled slumbers, 

 Donned a robe, sewn with bright colours, 

 Stepped into her silken slippers. 

 Then she, restless, paced the chamber. 

 Bright shell comb adorned her tresses, 

 Like the moon her earrings glimmered, 

 Her slim form was like a fairy's 

 As with sylph-like grace she moved. 

 Earely was there lovelier maiden. 



