Translation by YK Chan:
Would spring blossom and autumn moon ever stop to recur,
as numerous old stories in me already made a stir?
When balmy air breezed at night into this humble chamber again,
under moonlight I couldn’t bear to recall my fatherland.
The opulent palace at Jinling shalt still stay,
where pretty maids with rouged faces and all but fade.
How much grief can I hold at bay,
when it rolls like the vernal Yangzi on its easterly way?