Lost woman

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蝶恋花.送春

(朱淑真)

楼外垂杨千万缕。

欲系青春，少住春还去。

独自风前飘柳絮。

随春且看归何处。

绿满山川闻杜宇。

便做无情，莫也愁人苦。

把酒送春春不语。

黄昏却下潇潇雨。

Butterfly in Love with Flowers Farewell to Spring

（by Zhu Shuzhen. Translated by Xu Yuan’chong）

Thousands of willow twigs beyond my bower sway;

They try to retain spring, but she won‟t stay

For long and goes away.

In vernal breeze the willow down still wafts with grace;

It tries to follow spring and find her dwelling place.

Hills and rills greened all over, I hear the cuckoos sing;

Feeling no grief, why should they give me a sharp sting?

With wine who won‟t reply.

When evening grizzles,

A cold rain drizzles.

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声声慢

【宋】李清照

寻寻觅觅，
冷冷清清，
凄凄惨惨戚戚。
乍暖还寒时候，
最难将息。
三杯两盏淡酒，
怎敌他晓来风急？

雁过也，正伤心，
却是旧时相识。
满地黄花堆积，
憔悴损，
如今有谁堪摘？
守著窗儿独自，
怎生得黑！

梧桐更兼细雨，
到黄昏、点点滴滴。
这次第，
怎一个愁字了得！

Slow Slow Tune
 (Sung)  Li Qing'zhao
Translator: Lin Yutang

So dim, so dark,
So dense, so dull,
So damp, so dank,
So dead!
The weather, now warm, now cold,
Makes it harder than ever to forget!
How can thin wine and bread
Serve as protection
Against the piercing wind of sunset!

Wild geese pass over head
That they are familiar
Lets it more lamentable yet!
The ground is strewn with staid
And withered petals
For whom now should they be vase set?
By the window shut,
Guarding it along,
To see the sky has turned so black!

And on the colanut
To hear the drizzle drown
At dust: Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat!
Is this a mood and moment
Only to be called “sad”?

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But I want to change.
But how to change?

Today I started to read a book: The Power of Now.

In The power of Now, the author Eckhart Tolle wrote: 
"One night not long after my twenty-ninth birthday, I woke up in the early hours with a feeling of absolute dread. I had woken up with such a feeling many times before, but this time it was more intense than it had ever been. The silence of the night, the vague outlines of the furniture in the dark room, the distant noise of a passing train everything felt so alien, so hostile, and so utterly meaningless that it created in me a deep loathing of the world. The most loathsome thing of all, however, was my own existence. What was the point of my continuing to live with this burden of misery? Why carry on with this continuous struggle? I could feel that a deep longing for annihilation, for nonexistence, was now becoming much stronger than the instinctive desire to continue to live."

But his extreme loathing for himself at that night finally led him to a way of self-awareness. He wrote:
"I spent almost two years sitting on park benches in a state of the most intense joy.
But even the most beautiful experiences come and go. More fundamental, perhaps, than any experience is the undercurrent of peace that has never left me since then. Sometimes it is very strong, almost palpable, and others can feel it too. At other times, it is somewhere in the background, like a distant melody."

I hope I can finish the reading of this book in a week. I hope I can  find my way out of psychological pain.

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