| 英譯： |
Wind and bamboos strum and speak to each other,
Noises in the gloom of his secluded chamber.
Phantoms crowd my dimmed hearing,
Blurred sight strains to make things out.
Dry rain of leaves drops on the note shang,
Quilted for autumn I lie under flimsy cloud:
My sick bones have hacking edges,
The poem shapes out of a dreary mumble.
Meagre and wrinkled, wilted as these,
Sinking manhood has followed the westward sun.
Useless to call the spiralling wisp of a life
One strand in the web that heaven and earth weave.
|