43. Verses of Changgan

A poem by Li Bai, translated by Hyun Woo Kim

When my hair first covered the forehead,

I played in front of the gate, plucking flowers.

You came, mounted on a bamboo horse,

To play with blue plums, circling the guardrail.

Living together in the village of Changgan,

The two children had no hatred or jealousy.

At fourteen, I became your wife;

Shy face, that could not even be shown.

My head, lowered towards the dark wall,

Called a thousand times, not once turned around.

At fifteen, I began to unknit my eyebrows;

My wish—together till ash, till we become dirt.

The pillar-embracing trust was always there;

How would I climb to the summit to miss my husband?

At sixteen, you went far away,

To Yuxidui of Qutang.

It is May, and we cannot meet;

The sound of monkeys is sad over the sky.

Passers-by are rare in front of the gate;

One by one, green moss grows.

The moss has become thick and cannot be swept;

Falling leaves—the autumn wind is early.

It is August, and the butterflies have come,

Flying in couples, over the grass of the western garden.

Appreciating this hurts my heart;

Due to grief, my rosy face is getting old.

Early or late, when you depart from Sanba,

Post a letter in advance and send the news home.

To receive you, without saying it is far,

I will head straight to Changfengsha.

「長干行」

妾髮初覆額

折花門前劇

郎騎竹馬來

繞牀弄靑梅

同居長干里

兩小無嫌猜

十四爲君婦

羞顔未嘗開

低頭向暗壁

千喚不一回

十五始展眉

願同塵如灰

常存抱柱信

豈上望夫臺

十六君遠行

瞿塘豫淅堆

五月不可觸

猿聲天上哀

門前遲行跡

一一生綠苔

苔深不能掃

落葉秋風早

八月蝴蝶來

雙飛西園草

感此傷妾心

坐愁紅顔老

早晩下三巴

預將書報家

相迎不道遠

直至長風沙

From Hyun Woo:

Happy New Year, everyone! As you already know, there is no better way to enter 2025 than by reading a Tang poem. Today’s poem, Verses of Changgan, is probably the best-known love poem in the history of Chinese literature. Li Bai was truly talented in writing in a woman’s voice.

The “hair […] cover[ing] the forehead” is a description of a young girl, and walking “on bamboo stilts” is what a young boy does. Accordingly, we can tell the poetic narrator grew up with her future husband in the same village. This still could not stop her from feeling “shy” when she married him “at fourteen”. She was so embarrassed that she would just look at the wall and never turn her face around. Only a year later, “at fifteen”, did she become open about her feelings: “together till ash, till we become dirt.”

“The pillar-embracing trust” in the following line refers to the legend of Weisheng. Weisheng and a woman promised to meet under a bridge, but the woman did not come. While he was still waiting for her, the water began to rise. He never left and died, embracing a pillar of the bridge. “Climb[ing] to the summit to miss my husband” is another reference to a legend where a woman missing her lover climbs a mountain and turns into stone.

Just as the legends had foreshadowed, the narrator’s husband had to leave for some unknown reasons when she became sixteen. Time went by (“It is May […] Falling leaves […] It is August […]). He has not returned yet, and her “rosy face is getting old.” She is still waiting. Only if she hears the news of his return, she won’t even just wait at home but “head straight to Changfengsha”, “without saying it is far”.

*The translation has been edited with the help from

Travel the Seven Seas

. Thank you so much!

If you enjoyed my work, you can buy me a cup of tea. I am not a coffee person, by the way.