Chinese Poems

凤凰台上忆吹箫·残灯 贺双卿 已暗忘吹， 欲明谁剔？ 向侬无焰如萤。 听土阶寒雨， 滴破残更。 独自恹恹耿耿， 难断处、 也忒多情。 香膏尽， 芳心未冷， 且伴双卿。 星星。 渐微不动， 还望你淹煎， 有个花生。 胜野塘风乱， 摇曳渔灯。 辛苦秋蛾散后， 人已病、 病减何曾？ 相看久， 朦胧成睡， 睡去还惊。 Fenghuangtai shang yi chuixiao: Fading Lamp He Shuangqing Already dimming I forget to blow on it; Were it to shine brightly, who would trim it? Flameless in front of me, glowing like a firefly. I listen to the cold rain on the earthen steps Dripping through the third night watch, Alone by myself, sick and sleepless. Hard to extinguish You too are excessive in feeling. The scented oil is finished, But your fragrant heart has not cooled, Do keep company with Shuangqing for a while. Star after star Gradually fades into motionlessness. But I hope you will suffer through, And then blossom forth again. You will surpass those fishing lamps swaying In the chaotic wind on the wild pond. When autumn’s hard-working moths scatter, I am already ill, And when has my illness ever diminished? Long we watch each other, Vaguely sleep comes upon me… From sleep I am startled awake again. （Grace S. Fong 译）...

春从天上来·饷耕 贺双卿 紫陌春情， 漫额裹春纱， 自饷春耕。 小梅春瘦， 细草春明。 春田步步春生。 记那年春好， 向春燕、 说破春情。 到于今， 想春笺春泪， 都化春冰。 怜春痛春春几？ 被一片春烟， 锁住春莺。 赠与春侬， 递将春你， 是侬是你春灵。 筭春头春尾， 也难筭、 春梦春醒。 甚春魔， 做一场春梦， 春误双卿！ Chun cong tian shang lai: Taking Food to Do Spring Plowing He Shuangqing Purpled paths bright in spring weather. Slowly I tie a spring gauze on my head, And eat by myself during spring plowing. The small plum tree is thin in spring, Fine blades of grass glisten in spring. At each step along the fields spring comes to life. I remember that year in a fine spring To a spring swallow I blurted out spring feelings. And now, I think spring letters and spring tears Have all melted with the spring ice. I cherish spring, dote on spring for how many more springs? By an expanse of spring mist The spring oriole is locked in. You present gifts to a springtime me, And I offer presents to a springtime you: Am I or are you the spirit of spring? You can count the start and end of spring, But it will be hard to tell my spring awakenings from spring dreams. （Grace S. Fong 译）...

和白罗诗九首 贺双卿 其一 未许焚修闭小庵，冰心无皱似澄潭。 泥迟枉怪饥时燕，茧薄谁怜病后蚕。 Nine Poems He Shuangqing I I cannot hope to burn incense and meditate in a cloistered temple, My heart unrippled as a still clear pond. Don’t blame a starving swallow for bringing nest mud too late; Who pities an ailing silkworm for spinning a flimsy cocoon? 其二 今年膏雨断秋云，为补新租又典裙。 留得护郎轻絮暖，妾心如蜜取嫌君。 II This year torrents break forth from the autumn clouds. To pay the new rent, I have pawned my skirt. If I can save a quilt to protect you from the cold, My heart will be like honey how could I fault you? 其三 细纫麻鞋线几重，采樵明日上西峰。 乍寒一夜风偏急，莫向郎吹尽向侬。 III Coiling and stitching hemp, I make a pair of shoes, To ascend the western peak for wood tomorrow. The sudden cold brings a night of gusty winds; I implore them to blow my way instead of yours. 其四 冷厨烟湿障低房，爨尽梧桐谢凤凰。 野菜自挑寒自洗，菊花虽痛奈何霜？ IV In the chilly kitchen, smoke hangs heavy and damp over the room. With the wutong trees all burned, the phoenix has no perch. Alone I pick wild vegetables and wash them in the cold. The chrysanthemum, though ill, still has to bear the frost. 其五 浸透春酸一点心，病中疏梦意销沉。 镜钗己卖酬方药，自削杨柳照水簪。 V My fate is thin and insubstantial as a cicada’s wing.…...

二郎神·菊花 贺双卿 丝丝脆柳， 袅破淡烟依旧。 向落日秋山影里， 还喜花枝未瘦。 苦雨重阳挨过了， 亏耐到小春时候。 知今夜， 蘸微霜， 蝶去自垂首。 生受， 新寒浸骨， 病来还又。 可是我双卿薄幸， 撇你黄昏静后。 月冷阑干人不寐， 镇几夜， 未松金扣。 枉辜却、 开向贫家， 愁处欲浇无酒。 Er lang shen: Chrysanthemums Strand on strand of frail willows, Swaying gently, breaks through the light mist as before. I turn toward the shadows of autumn hills in the setting sun, And rejoice that the flowers’ stems have not withered. Incessant rain they have endured past the Double Ninth, And fortunately survived to the time of Small Spring. Knowing that tonight will be dipped in light frost, The butterflies go off, leaving them to droop their heads alone. Taking in the hardships: When new chill penetrates the bones And illness comes once again. Is it that I, Shuangqing, am heartless, Casting you aside after the dusk turns quiet? Moonlight chills the railing and I am sleepless For many nights now you have not loosened your golden clasps. I wrongly neglected you when you blossomed for a poor household; Now that I want to water the site of sorrow, I have no wine. （Grace S. Fong 译）...

玉京秋·自题〈种瓜小影〉 贺双卿 眉半敛， 春红已全褪， 旧愁还欠。 画中瘦影， 羞人难闪。 新病三分未醒， 淡胭脂， 空费轻染。 凉生夜， 月华如水， 素娥无玷。 翠袖啼痕堪验。 海棠边， 曾沾万点。 怪近来， 寻常梳裹， 酸咸都厌。 粉汗凝香蘸碧水， 罗帕时揩冰簟。 有谁念。 原是花神暂贬？ Yujing qiu: Inscribed on a Portrait of Shuangqing Planting Melons He Shuangqing Eyebrows half in a frown: Springtime color is already faded, And the old sorrow not yet gone. A thin figure in the painting, Ashamed to be seen but hard to avoid it. New illness still hangs on, The painter applies light rouge but in vain. In the cool of the night The moon shines brightly, Chang E shows no blemish. Green sleeves still bear the stains of tears; The spot by the crab apple flower has been Drenched with myriad drops. I wonder why recently combing hair and getting dressed every day, Fixing dishes salty or sour, All seem too much trouble. Powder and sweat in congealed fragrance While she dips the light cloth in blue water And wipes down the bamboo mat: Who is there to recognize her For a flower spirit in temporary exile? （Grace S. Fong 译）...

孤鸾·病中 贺双卿 午寒偏准， 早疟意初来， 碧衫添衬。 宿髻慵梳， 乱裹帕罗齐鬓。 忙中素裙未浣， 褶痕边， 断丝双损。 玉腕近看如茧， 可香腮还嫩。 算一生凄楚也拚忍。 便化粉成灰， 嫁时先忖。 锦思花情， 敢被爨烟薰尽。 东菑却嫌饷缓。 冷潮回， 热潮谁问？ 归去将棉晒取， 又晚炊相近。 Gu luan He Shuangqing Noon shivers are unfairly punctual: Early the malarial symptoms appear, So I put on another green-colored jacket. With no desire to comb out yesterday’s braids, I hastily tie a kerchief to tidy my side locks. Too busy with work to wash my plain skirt: Along its wrinkled pleats The torn threads are frayed on both sides. My white wrists seen close up are rough and calloused, But these fragrant cheeks are still soft and young. I deem my whole life wretched but I’ll bear it to the bitter end Even if I turn into powder and ash. I foresaw this when I married: Beautiful thoughts and romantic feelings, All would be suffocated in cooking smoke. In the eastern field they only complain that the meal is brought late. The chills return, But no one asks about my fever. I return to fetch the cotton quilts being sunned, And it’s almost time to cook the evening meal again. （Grace S. Fong 译）...

惜黄花慢·孤雁 贺双卿 碧尽遥天， 但暮霞散绮， 碎剪红鲜。 听时愁近， 望时怕远， 孤鸿一个， 去向谁边？ 素霜已冷芦花渚， 更休倩、 鸥鹭相怜。 暗自眠， 凤凰纵好， 宁是姻缘！ 凄凉劝你无言。 趁一沙半水， 且度流年。 稻梁初尽， 网罗正苦， 梦魂易警， 几处寒烟。 断肠可似婵娟意， 寸心里， 多少缠绵！ 夜未闲， 倦飞误宿平田。 Xi huanghua man: A Stray Wild Goose He Shuangqing Emerald spreads to the end of the distant sky, Only rosy dusk clouds scattering their fine silk Snipped into fragments of fresh red. When I listen, I worry that it’s so nearby, When I gaze, I dread its being far away: One lone wild goose To whom can it turn? White frost has already chilled the sandbar’s reed flowers, So don’t even ask the gulls and egrets for sympathy. In the dark, sleep alone. Though the phoenix may be fine, When is there ever a bond with it? Mournful, I have no words to encourage you; Go along a sandy shore or halfway up a stream Just to pass the fleeting years. With the rice grains recently exhausted, The fowler’s nets cannot wait; Your dream-soul is easily frightened Many times in the cold mist. Is your grief like a woman’s? In that tiny heart there is so much tender attachment. The night is not yet quiet, Yet, tired from flight, you make the mistake…...

摸鱼儿·谢邻女韩西馈食 贺双卿 喜初晴， 晚霞西现， 寒山烟外青浅。 苔纹干处容香履， 尖印紫泥犹软。 人语乱， 忙去倚、 柴扉空负深深愿。 相思一线， 向新月搓圆； 穿愁贯恨， 珠泪总成串。 黄昏后， 残热犹怜细喘。 小窗风射如箭。 春红秋白无情艳， 一朵似侬难选。 重见远， 听说道， 伤心已受殷勤饯。 斜阳刺眼， 休更望天涯， 天涯只是， 几片冷云展。 Mo yu’r: Thanking the Neighbor Girl Han Xi for Her Gift of Food He Shuangqing Cheered by the end of the rains, The evening clouds in the west appear; Beyond the haze the chilly mountains look light blue. Where strips of moss are dry, fragrant shoes can tread. Sharp prints stay on the purplish mud still soft. Clamor of people’s voices: I rush to go lean on the brushwood door vainly harboring deep deep desire. My thoughts of you are all one strand Spun from the new moon to the full, Threaded with grief, strung with remorse, pearls of tears enough for one whole string. After dusk, still warm and damp, Who will sustain my struggle to breathe? Through the small window the wind shoots in like an arrow; Springtime red, autumn white, heartless beauty; Difficult to pick a bud like me. Our next meeting is so far off. I hear the heartbroken one Has already received her lavish feast. The sunset hurts the eyes; Don’t look to the horizon, The horizon only shows…...

春从天上来·梅花 贺双卿 自笑恹恹， 费半晌春忙， 去省花尖。 玉容憔悴， 知为谁添？ 病来分与花嫌。 正腊衣催洗， 春波冷， 素腕愁沾。 硬东风、 枉寒香一度， 新月纤纤。 多情满天坠粉， 偏只累双卿， 梦里空拈。 与蝶招魂， 替莺拭泪， 夜深偷诵《楞严》。 有伤春佳句， 酸和苦， 生死俱甜。 祝花年， 向观音稽首， 掣遍灵签。 Chun cong tianshang lai: Plum Blossom He Shuangqing I laugh at my own sickliness. I took a moment during the busy spring season To visit the flowers’ pointed buds. The haggardness of my jade-like face Has increased, but for whom? Since my illness I have grown estranged from the flowers. Now winter clothes have to be washed, Yet spring waves are cold, And my white wrists are soaked in grief. A stubborn east wind Uselessly blows cold fragrance for a moment Beneath a wisp of a new moon. With so much feeling it drops powder to fill the sky, But it only brings trouble to Shuangqing, In dreams trying to grasp it in vain. I summon its soul with the butterflies And wipe off tears for the orioles; Deep in the night I secretly chant the Lankavatara. I have beautiful lines lamenting spring, Pain and bitterness, Life and death are all sweet. I pray for the flowers’ years. Bowing to Guanyin, 1 I pull out all the divining slips. 1. Guanyin is the goddess…...

别云间 夏完淳 三年羁旅客，今日又南冠。 无限河山泪，谁言天地宽？ 已知泉路近，欲别故乡难。 毅魄归来日，灵旗空际看。 Farewell to Yunjian1 Xia Wanchun Three years I’ve been a warrior on the move, Only to wear a captive’s cap today!With endless tears for my native land and sea, Who says there’s wide space ‘twixt Heav’n and Earth? Nay! Already I know to me Hades is near, And yet ‘tis hard to part with homeland dear! The day my staunch soul here again comes by, I wish our combat flags’ll be flying high! 1. Yunjian was the name of Songjiang County, Jiangsu Province, near Shanghai. Xia was a native there. （王知还 译） Adieu, My Homeland Xia Wanchun1 I struggled three long years, Captive again today. My land’s worth bitter tears. Could I come homeward way? I know my death is near; It’s hard to leave my land. See when my soul comes here, I’ll wave my flag in hand. 1. The poet carried out anti-Manchurian activities at the age of fifteen and was put to death at seventeen. （许渊冲 译） Farewell to Yunjian Xia Wanchun Three years in a strange land And I end, here, in prison. Hot tears flow endlessly For our own land, endlessly dear. Oh, all I have left of this beloved, lovely…...

山坡羊 刘致 朝朝琼树， 家家朱户， 骄嘶过沽酒楼前路。 贵何如， 贱何如？ 六桥都是经行处， 花落水流深院宇。 闲， 天定许； 忙， 人自取。 Tune: “Sheep on the Mountain Slope” Liu Chih Every morning, emerald trees. Every house, made of ruby. Horses neigh on the road before the tavern. High position: what is it? Low position: what is it? All six bridges we have crossed. Flowers fall, water flows in deep courts and halls. Leisure is Heaven-given. Busyness is All manmade. （Wai-lim Yip 译）...

Wei Yingwu 昙智禅师院 韦应物 高年不复出，门径众草生。 时夏方新雨，果药发馀荣。 疏澹下林景，流暮幽禽情。 身名两俱遣，独此野寺行。 At Cloud-Wisdom Monastery, in the Ch’an Master’s Courtyard Wei Ying-wu Exalted with age, you never leave here: the gate-path is overgrown with grass. But summer rains have come, bringing fruits and herbs into such bright beauty, so we stroll down into forest of shadow, sharing what recluse birds feel at dusk, freed even of our names. And this much alone, we wander the countryside back. （David Hinton 译）...

《怨歌行》/《怨诗》/《团扇诗》 班婕妤 新裂齐纨素，鲜洁如霜雪。 裁为合欢扇，团团似明月。 出入君怀袖，动摇微风发。 常恐秋节至，凉飚夺炎热。 弃捐箧笥中，恩情中道绝。 A Present from the Emperor’s New Concubine Lady P’an I took a piece of the rare cloth of Ch’i, White silk glowing and pure a frost on snow, And made you a fan of harmony and joy, As flawlessly round as the full moon. Carry it always, nestled in your sleeve. Wave it and it will make a cooling breeze. I hope, that when Autumn comes back And the North Wind drives away the heat, You will not store it away amongst old gifts And forget it, long before it is worn out. （Kenneth Rexroth 译） The Fan Fine, freshly woven silk of Qi Is white as frost or snow; A piece, embroidered, makes a fan As round as the bright moon. My lord keeps the fan about him, Its motion makes a gentle breeze for him; But I dread the coming of autumn When cold winds steal away the sultry heat. And the fan is tossed, unwanted, into a casket, Its short term of favor ended. （杨宪益、戴乃迭 译）...

与致虚妹丈 高尔俨 昨宵乐甚！碧天一色，澄澈如昼，又松竹影交加，翠影被面，月光落酒杯中，波动影摇。吹洞箫数阙，清和婉妙，听之怡然；响绝余音，犹绕耳间不退。出户一望，空旷无际。大醉后笔墨撩乱，已不复记忆。 今晨于袖中得纸幅，出而视之，则所谓“笔墨撩乱”者也。然亦殊可爱，以为有骀荡之趣。把笔效之，不能及巳。因即以昨日所就者请正。 To My Brother-in-Law Zhixu Gao Eryan How happy I was last night! The sky was light blue all over and was as clear as in the day. The shadows of pine branches and bamboos interwove and cast a shadow of greenish colour on my face, while the moonlight fell into my winecup, presenting a microscopic scene of undulating waves and shaking shadows. Someone blew on the Xiao several times, and the music so produced was tranquilizing and fascinating. I was delighted by it, for I felt that it was lingering at my ears long after the playing had ceased. I went out of the door and all I saw was the boundless vacant space. How I used writing brush and Chines ink to draw in an irregular and disorderly way after my inebriation—that was something I forgot. This morning I took the scroll out of my sleeve and had a look at what was “irregularly and disorderly drawn”. But it turned out to be rather lovely, as I thought it had an element of freedom and unconstraint. I tried to make another copy of the picture, but the new one fell short of the original. So I presented…...

夜泉 袁中道 山白鸟忽鸣，石冷霜欲结。 流泉得月光，化为一溪雪。 A Spring Seen in the Night Yuan Zhongdao Hills turning white, birds suddenly cry; Rocks, very cold, are frosting over. The gurgling spring stroked by moonlight Has turned into a stream snowwhite. （王晋熙、文殊 译）...

项羽庙 李山甫 为虏为王尽偶然，有何羞见汉江船？ 停分天下犹嫌少，可要行人赠纸钱？ The Temple of Hsiang Yü1 Li Shan-fu Captive or king, it’s all a matter of chance. Why ashamed to see Han boats on the river? Contesting for the empire, the world wasn’t big enough; Would you now care for offerings of paper money from a traveler? 1. Hsiang Yü (232-202 B.C), the defeated king of Ch’u. （Irving Y. Lo 译）...

悟道诗 无尽藏 尽日寻春不见春，芒鞋踏破岭头云。 归来笑捻梅花嗅，春在枝头已十分。 All day long I looked vainly for a sign of Spring My grass shoes raising clouds from the dust of all fields Returning home, I smilingly pick a plum-blossom and sniff it And lo! here on the sprig is Spring in its fullness. （钱钟书 译） 网站注：原诗无诗题。...

董娇饶 宋子侯 洛阳城东路，桃李生路旁。 花花自相对，叶叶自相当。 春风东北起，花叶正低昂。 不知谁家子，提笼行采桑。 纤手折其枝，花落何飘扬。 请谢彼姝子，何为见损伤。 高秋八九月，白露变为霜。 终年会飘堕，安得久馨香。 秋时自零落，春月复芬芳。 何如盛年去，欢爱永相忘。 吾欲竟此曲，此曲愁人肠。 归来酌美酒，挟瑟上高堂。 Dong Jiaorao Song Zihou East of Luoyang the capital, Plum and peach on roadsides grew. One blossom faced another; Leaves greeted each other. A vernal breeze rose from the northeast. Blossoms and leaves their heads tossed. Whose daughter was this girl? She was to pick mulberry leaves with a basket in hand. Her slender hands broke the branches; Blossom petals fluttering down to the ground. “Pray say, pretty girl, why do you hurt me so?” “In high autumn of the eighth and ninth moon, Hoary dews have turned into sleets. You will in the end fall. How can you long keep the fragrant smell?” “In Autumn I do fade and fall, In Spring fragrance comes back to all. How can the prime of life exist forever? How should love be forgotten for long?” I want to end this tune For it makes one sigh and moan. Back home I fill high the glass; With lyres I go to the upper house. （李正栓 译）...

劝学篇 张之洞 此举其最大者，此外良法善政不可殚书，列圣继继绳绳，家法、心法相承无改二百五十余年，薄海臣民日游于高天厚地之中，长养涵濡，以有今日。试考中史二千年之内，西史五十年以前，其国政有如此之宽仁忠厚者乎？中国虽不富强，然天下之人，无论富贵贫贱皆得俯仰宽然，有以自乐其生；西国国势虽盛，而小民之愁苦怨毒者郁遏未伸，待机而发，以故弑君刺相之事岁不绝书，固知其政事亦必有不如我中国者矣。 In Praise of the Manchus (Excerpts) For the past two hundred and fifty years, the officials and people within the boundaries of the Four Seas, daily marching between high Heaven and Mother Earth, have been nourished in their growth by unremitting care, down to the present day. If we compare the history of China for the past two thousand years with the histories of Western countries for the past fifty years, have their governments shown the generosity, the charity of heart, the loyalty, the sincerity of ours? Although China is neither rich nor strong, nevertheless all her people, rich, noble, poor, and humble alike, can pass their days in comfort, and rejoice that they were born into this world. Now although the countries of the West are flourishing, the sorrows of the masses, their sufferings, and the position of wrongs, which press them on all sides without redress, cause them to watch their opportunity for breaking out and murdering their sovereign or assassinating a minister, examples of which deeds are recorded every year. Thus we know that their form of government is most certainly not equal to that we have here in China. （Herbert A. Giles 译）...

笑倒·梦戏酌 陈皋谟 一人梦赴戏酌，方定席，为妻惊醒，乃骂其妻。妻曰：不要骂，趁早睡去，戏文还未半本哩。 Party with Theatricals in Dreamland A man dreamt of going to a dinner party at which theatricals would be given. Hardly had the seats been assigned to the guests when he was awakened by his better half, against whom he uttered invectives for interrupting his fond dream. “Don’t curse me, my dear,” said his better half. “Go back to sleep before it is too late. The play isn’t half over yet.” Chen Gaomo: Xiao dao (Convulsive Laughter) （卢允中 译）...

野行 唐彦谦 蝶恋晚花终不去，鸥逢春水固难飞。 野人心地都无著，伴蝶随鸥亦不归。 A Walk in the Country T’ang Yen-ch’en Butterflies in love with evening flowers will not leave until the very end. Gulls meeting spring waters find it sorely hard to fly away. A man in the country, I keep no address at all under my heart; A companion of butterflies, a follower of gulls, I will not go home either. （Edward H. Schafer 译）...

积善之家，必有余庆；积不善之家；必有余殃。——《周易·坤·文言》 The family that accumulates goodness is sure to have abundant happiness, and the family that accumulates evil is sure to have abundant misery....

叙陈正甫会心集 袁宏道 世人所难得者唯趣。趣如山上之色、水中之味、花中之光、女中之态，虽善说者不能下一语，唯会心者知之。今之人，慕趣之名，求趣之似，于是有辨说书画、涉猎古董，以为清；寄意玄虚，脱迹尘纷，以为远。又其下，则有如苏州之烧香煮茶者。此等皆趣之皮毛，何关神情！夫趣得之自然者深，得之学问者浅。当其为童子也，不知有趣，然无往而非趣也。面无端容，目无定睛；口喃喃而欲语，足跳跃而不定；人生之至乐，真无逾于此时者。孟子所谓不失赤子，老子所谓能婴儿，盖指此也，趣之正等正觉最上乘也。山林之人，无拘无缚，得自在度日，故虽不求趣而趣近之。愚不肖之近趣也，以无品也，品愈卑，故所求愈下。或为酒肉，或为声伎；率心而行，无所忌惮，自以为绝望于世，故举世非笑之不顾也，此又一趣也。迨夫年渐长，官渐高，品渐大，有身如梏，有心如棘，毛孔骨节，俱为闻见知识所缚，入理愈深，然其去趣愈远矣。[余友陈正甫，深于趣者也，故所述《会心集》若干卷，趣居其多，不然，虽介若伯夷，高若严光，不录也。噫，孰谓有品如君、官如君、年之壮如君、而能知如此者哉] 注：[…] 部分未有英文译文。 Preface to Hweishin Collection of Poems of Chen Chengfu Yuan Chunglang I find that zest is a rare gift in life. Zest is like hues on the mountains, taste in water, brilliance in flowers, and charm in women. It is appreciated only by those who have understanding, and is difficult to explain in words. True enough, it is common nowadays to find people who affect a taste in certain diversions. Some cultivate a love for painting, calligraphy, and antiques, and others are fascinated by the mystics and the recluses and the life of a hermit. Still others are like the people of Soochow who make a hobby of tea and incense, turning it almost into a cult. These are superficial, and have nothing to do with real zest and understanding of the flavor in living. This zest for living is more born in us than cultivated. Children have most of it. They have probably never heard of the word “zest,” but they show it everywhere. They find it hard to look solemn; they wink, they grimace, they mumble to themselves, they jump and skip and hop and romp. That is why childhood is the happiest period of…...

诉衷情 吴激 夜寒茅店不成眠， 残月照吟鞭。 黄花细雨时候， 催上渡头船。 鸥似雪， 水如天。 忆当年。 到家应是， 童稚牵衣， 笑我华颠。 Suzhongqing Wu Ji On a cold night, no sleep comes to a village inn; The whip glows in the waning moon as I ride and sing. A drizzle sprinkles the yellow flowers and my coat; In a hurry, I board a ferry boat. Gulls are white as snow, Water is sky blue— Same as years ago. When travel I have done, The kids will sure tug my clothes and run, And laugh at my hoary hair in great fun.1 1. Hoary hair is symbolic of the old. He Zhizhang, poet of the early Tang Dynasty, ever wrote the poem On Home Coming: I returned home old while left still a lad, local accent is unchanged, hoary hair I had. Kids I meet on the way regard me a stranger, ask politely, “Where are you from, dear sir?” （陈君朴、冯修文 译）...