Tz'u No. 14
L
Li Ching Chao
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Altın Yaprak
To the tune of "Thinking of Maiden Ch'in"
I ascend high on the storied pavilion,
Below, mountains scatter in disorder;
the uncutivated plain extends
far in the light mist.
In the light mist,
Crows have returned to their nests;
The evening horn is heard in the dusk.
Burnt-out incense, left-over wine -
my melancholy heart!
The evening wind hastens
the Wu-T'ung leaves fall.
The Wu-T'ung leaves fall,
Again the autumn becomes beautiful,
Again the heart is lonesome.
Bu metin şairin özgün dilinde (Çince) değil, bir çeviridir.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş