| 英譯： |
AN autumn wind blows over the earth, The grasses die,
Mount Hua becomes a sapphire shadow In the chill of dusk,
Though I have reached my twentieth year, I've missed my goal.
My whole heart sad and withered As a dying orchid.
Clothes like the feathers of a flying quail, Horse like a hound,
Where the road forks I beat my sword With a brazen roar.
Dismounting at a tavern I shed My autumn gown,
Wishing to pledge it for a jar Of Yi-yang wine.
Deep in the jar I called on Heaven— No clouds rolled back,?
The white day stretched a thousand leagues, Cold and forlorn,
My host urged me to cultivate Both body and soul,
Nor care at all if the vulgar crowd Made mock of me.
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