Once gone into the vast misty waters, again beneath the bright moon over the autumn river. The bright moon’s clear radiance chills and soaks the soul; a wanderer on the waves faintly hears the sobbing sound of the flute.
Beyond the ferry where green grasses spread, wine is idly bought; atop Yellow Crane Tower, the zither strings are tuned. Leaves sway and sway, the wind is soft and fine; cloud shadows are desolate, the water glimmers and ripples.
This wanderer’s blue robe can no longer be mended; at sunset the turbid waves strike the boat’s side. By chance I glance toward the river’s heart through the rolling waters, and still see that beauty’s words and smile, lovely as ever.
Dark sleeves and a red skirt, the figure only dimly seen; black awnings and white sails drift on in vain attachment. The dawn moon always shines on those parted; the jade flute dares not be played before others.
Night rain is hard to endure beside the lonely lamp so long; keyboard and mouse several times feel heavy as lead. Yet I simply will not speak before others; how many times rosy clouds drift, how many times foggy dreams.
Brows drawn, head lowered, I heave a long sigh; in my old home reeds and weeds gradually grow. Reeds and weeds cannot be cut, the tailor’s shears lie rusting on clothes.
Messages over the net are cut off; at Lianzhong I idly tap out a game of chess. The sound of the chess hastens my furrowed brow; before I know it the night watch runs fast. On and on, yet again delayed and slow,
accompanied only by the Ninefold Loom. How could one not know? On the river road where scented dust and silk stockings skim the waves, the traveler upon the river goes ever deeper on his way!
Beyond the ferry where green grasses spread, wine is idly bought; atop Yellow Crane Tower, the zither strings are tuned. Leaves sway and sway, the wind is soft and fine; cloud shadows are desolate, the water glimmers and ripples.
This wanderer’s blue robe can no longer be mended; at sunset the turbid waves strike the boat’s side. By chance I glance toward the river’s heart through the rolling waters, and still see that beauty’s words and smile, lovely as ever.
Dark sleeves and a red skirt, the figure only dimly seen; black awnings and white sails drift on in vain attachment. The dawn moon always shines on those parted; the jade flute dares not be played before others.
Night rain is hard to endure beside the lonely lamp so long; keyboard and mouse several times feel heavy as lead. Yet I simply will not speak before others; how many times rosy clouds drift, how many times foggy dreams.
Brows drawn, head lowered, I heave a long sigh; in my old home reeds and weeds gradually grow. Reeds and weeds cannot be cut, the tailor’s shears lie rusting on clothes.
Messages over the net are cut off; at Lianzhong I idly tap out a game of chess. The sound of the chess hastens my furrowed brow; before I know it the night watch runs fast. On and on, yet again delayed and slow,
accompanied only by the Ninefold Loom. How could one not know? On the river road where scented dust and silk stockings skim the waves, the traveler upon the river goes ever deeper on his way!
弄花香满衣，掬水月在手。
明月鹭鸟飞， 芦花白马走。
我自一过后，野渡现横舟。
青云碧空在，净瓶水不流。
http://dos.e-stone.cn/guestbook/index.asp
＝＝＝＝＝＝中國DOS聯盟＝＝＝＝＝
我的新网页http://rsds.7i24.com欢迎光顾
明月鹭鸟飞， 芦花白马走。
我自一过后，野渡现横舟。
青云碧空在，净瓶水不流。
http://dos.e-stone.cn/guestbook/index.asp
＝＝＝＝＝＝中國DOS聯盟＝＝＝＝＝
我的新网页http://rsds.7i24.com欢迎光顾
