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187 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1820
‘A woman’s world is weaved from woe,’ she says, ‘and the only thing we dream of is despair. God rips off our wings. God makes us die.
Trăm năm trong cõi người ta,
Chữ tài chữ mệnh khéo là ghét nhau.
Trải qua một cuộc bể dâu,
Những điều trông thấy mà đau đớn lòng.
Lạ gì bỉ sắc tư phong,
Trời xanh quen thói má hồng đánh ghen. (I read the Nom version, but Goodreads apparently doesn't display the characters, so here's a modernize one)
Were full five-score the years allotted to born man,
How oft his qualities might yield within that span to fate forlorn!
In time the mulberry reclaims the sunk sea-bourn,
And what the gliding eye may first find fair weighs mournful on the heart.
Uncanny? Nay—lack ever proved glut's counterpart,
And mindful are the gods on rosy cheeks to dart celestial spite… (Translation by Vladislav Zhukov)
What tragedies take place
within each circling space of years!
‘Rich in good looks’ appears
to mean poor luck and tears of woe;
which may sound strange, I know,
but is not really so, I swear,
since Heaven everywhere
seems jealous of the fair of face. (Translation by Michael Counsell, following the original lục bát [6/8 meter])
