Yuan Dynasty
十二月过尧民歌·别情
王实甫
自别后遥山隐隐，
更那堪远水粼粼。
见杨柳飞绵滚滚，
对桃花醉脸醺醺。
透内阁香风阵阵，
掩重门暮雨纷纷。
怕黄昏忽地又黄昏，
不销魂怎地不销魂。
新啼痕压旧啼痕，
断肠人忆断肠人。
今春香肌瘦几分？
缕带宽三寸。
Translation
Since parting, distant mountains have grown dim; still harder to bear is the shimmering water far away. Willow catkins roll through the air; before peach blossoms, her face seems flushed as if with wine. Fragrance drifts from the inner chamber; behind layered doors, evening rain falls thickly. She fears dusk, yet dusk suddenly comes again. How could she not be soul-stricken? New tear stains press upon old ones; one heartbroken person remembers another. How much thinner has her fragrant body grown this spring? Her sash has loosened by three inches.
Analysis
This song is a refined depiction of longing after separation. Its repeated reduplicative words—dimly, shimmering, rolling, flushed, gust after gust, rain upon rain—create both rhythm and emotional accumulation. Landscape is never merely decorative: mountains, water, willow catkins, peach blossoms, fragrance, and rain all become triggers of longing. The line about fearing dusk captures the unbearable recurrence of time in separation. The final image of the loosened sash gives bodily proof to emotional exhaustion, turning grief into a visible sign.