ON the side of the mountains the dead leave are
whirling. Go with me as far as the summit of this
tower . . . by the side of the sea we will watch
the grey clouds rent by the wind, and autumn
will sadden us.
The Tartar hordes swarm on the frontier of Kobi.
Here the ambassador of Han returns . . .he passes
the gate Yu-men. Shall we ever see again all those
whom the war has called?
O rose of autumn! Why do you lavish your per-
fume on me?