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一钩残月向西流，
对此不抛眼泪也无由。
一九二一年
*“尽”有作“烬”。
Written on My Pillow
Tune: “The Beautiful Lady Yu”
Mao Zedong
1921
Like what would sorrow look, piled on my pillows?
A sea of surging billows.
As night is long and dawn is slow to come from far.
Lonely I rise in nightgown to count star on star.
When morning comes, all thoughts fade from my mind.
How can I leave you far behind?
A hooklike waning moon floats in the western spheres.
At sight of this, can I refrain from shedding tears?
（许渊冲 译）
Thoughts on the Pillow
to the tune of Yu the Beauty
Mao Zedong
Piling up on the pillow what a grief in sum
Like, in the river and sea, surging waves untold!
Night drags on and dawn seems never to come,
I get up with coat, sitting alone looking up at stars cold.
The day breaks with all my wishes reduced to ashes in rest,
Only, the shadows of the departure still vaguely remain.
The hook-like crescent now going down in the west,
Facing the scene, how could I refrain from tears like rain!
(1921)
（辜正坤 译）
Yu Mei Ren
(On the Pillow)
Mao Zedong
1921
What is piled sorrow like upon the pillow?
It’s roaring seas of woe.
Why should the night be so dark and long?
Lonely, I sat up, counted cold stars, with my coat on.
Dawn found all my night thoughts gone,
Save the parting image of one.
The waning moon is westward moving,
How can my tears hold back my feeling?
（李正栓 译）
A Melody to the Tune of Beauty Yu on the Pillow
Mao Zedong
1921
What is the state on the pillow missing of sorrows?
That is just like waves rolling up and down in rivers.
It’s quite difficult to be daybreak with the long night,
Have to sit up to count the stars in clothes and silence.
After daybreak all of the missing is reduced to ashes,
There only left in mind the dear’s departed figures.
When the incomplete moon is moving to the west,
It would certainly be unreasonable not to shed tears.
（焕然 译）
Corn Poppy
On the Pillowcase
Mao Zedong
1921
What can resemble the anxiety piling up on the pillowcase?
The rivers and seas seething with billows.
The long night was hard to reach the daybreak,
And feeling lonely I threw on the garment and sat counting the cold stars.
At the advent of dawn, all my intricate thoughts became ashes
While the absent figure’s shadow remained.
A crescent of the waning moon flowed westward,
And at this very moment, there were no reasons for me not to shed tears.
（张纯厚 译）
