The Song of Everlasting Regret【Translation】
Tang Emperor was fond of beauty. After becoming the emperor, he had been searching for beauties for years, but had not found any. Yang's daughter had just grown up, and she was beautiful and kept in the deep palace. No one knew her unparalleled beauty. Her natural beauty was hard to hide from the world, and soon she became one of the emperor's concubines. When she smiled back, she was charming and enchanting. Other concubines in the palace lost their charm without makeup. In the chill of spring, the emperor presented her to bathe in the Huaqing Pool. The warm spring water washed her skin like congealed fat. With the help of her maids, she moved gracefully like a lotus flower, and thus began to enjoy the emperor's favor. Her hair was like a cloud, her face like a flower, and she wore a golden step swing on her head. In the warm lotus flower tent, she and the emperor spent the spring night together. They deeply loved each other, but hated the shortness of spring nights. When they woke up, the sun had risen high. The emperor was deeply in love and his heart was tender. From then on, he never attended the morning court. He was busy serving the emperor and had no leisure time. In spring, he accompanied the emperor on outings, and at night, he slept with him. There were no fewer than three thousand concubines in the harem, but only she enjoyed the emperor's favor alone. She dressed up in the golden room, and every night she didn't leave the emperor, acting coquettishly. In the jade building, after the banquet, she was drunk and even more charming. Her siblings became high-ranking officials, and the Yang family's door shone with envy. Thus, parents throughout the world changed their minds and began to value daughters more than sons. On Lishan Mountain, the Yuyu Hall in Huaqing Palace soared into the clouds. When the clear wind blew, celestial music floated in all directions. The light songs and dances matched well, and the melodies of the orchestra were all spiritual. The emperor watched them all day long but never tired of it. The war drums ringing loudly during the rebellion in Yuyang were deafening. The palace stopped playing the Nicun Feather Clothes tune. The nine-story palace was covered in dust in an instant. The emperor, with his courtiers and beautiful women, fled southwest. The caravan made stops before finally leaving Chang'an City, only a hundred miles away. The six-army stopped and demanded that Yang Yuhuan be put to death. The emperor had no choice but to strangle her under the Ma Wei Slope. The decorations on the imperial consort's head were scattered all over the ground without anyone picking them up. The green jade bird and the hairpin were scattered all over the place. The emperor wanted to save her but couldn't. He cried with his face covered and looked back at the scene of the imperial consort's tragic death. His tears couldn't stop flowing. The bleak autumn wind swept away the fallen leaves, and the yellow dust had disappeared. The winding path of Jiange Ancient Road led the caravan. Few people walked under Mount Emei. There were no flags, no sunlight or moonlight. The scenery of Shu Land was beautiful, and the emperor missed her so much. In the palace, he gazed sadly at the full moon; on rainy nights, he listened to the music with a sad heart. After the rebellion was suppressed, the emperor returned to Chang'an. Passing by Ma Wei Slope, he thought of the person and was reluctant to go forward. Under Ma Wei Slope, the lonely grave was where the beauty's face could no longer be seen. The emperor and his courtiers looked at each other, tears wetting their clothes. They glanced at the direction of the capital with a sad heart. When he came back to the palace, he saw that the ponds and gardens were still there, the lotus flowers on the Taiye Pool were still there, and the willows in the Weiyang Palace were still unchanged. The lotus blossoms were like Yang Yuhuan's face, and the willow leaves were like her eyebrows. How could one not feel sad when seeing this situation and scenery? Spring breeze blew peach and plum blossoms, but things were different for people. Autumn rain dripped on the wutong leaves, making the scene even more pitiful and sad. The Xingqing Official and Ganlu Temple were deserted everywhere, and autumn grass grew everywhere. Fallen leaves covered the palace steps, and they had not been swept away for a long time. The heads of the actors have turned white, and the red faces of the palace maids have faded. At night, fireflies danced in the palace, but the emperor still couldn't sleep despite the dim light. He counted the slow clock and drum beats, feeling that the night was getting longer. He looked at the starry sky far away, and it wasn't until the eastern sky lit up that he finally went back. Frost appeared on the mandarin ducks on the roof. The cold jade wasn't there to sleep with the emperor. A year had already passed, and she had never come to him in his dreams. A Daoist in Linqiong was staying as a guest in Chang'an. It was said that he could summon the imperial consort's soul with magic. The emperor's thoughts moved the Daoist, who accepted the imperial decree and searched for the imperial consort's soul all over the place. He drove clouds into the sky, running like lightning, and searched everywhere, from the heavens to the underworld, but he had no results. He suddenly heard that there was a fairy mountain surrounded by white clouds on the sea. It was a magnificent and transparent tower with colorful auspicious clouds carrying it. There were countless celestial maidens and beautiful women. Among them was a person named Taizhen, whose skin was as white as snow and whose appearance was like a flower. She seemed to be the Yang Yuhuan that the emperor was looking for. The Daoist came to the west of the Golden Palace, knocked on the jade stone-carved gate, and called out softly, asking Xiuyu to inform her attendants to enter. Taizhen heard that the emperor's envoy had arrived, and woke up from the tent. She put on her clothes, pushed away the pillow, and walked out of the sleeping tent. She opened the screens one by one and let down the pearl curtains. She only half combed her hair before coming down from the altar, so she wore a crooked flower crown. The gentle fairy wind blew her sleeves slightly, and she moved gracefully like the dance of Nicun Feather Clothes. Her lonely and sorrowful face was like a pear blossom in the rain in spring