| 英譯： |
A spider hangs in the empty window
Crickets sing on the fronts steps
The cold wind of the year's evening is here—
How are things with you now, my frineds?
Your high house is empty, uninhabited
There are no words for this separation
Your front gate us out of use, shut
And the declining sun shines on autumn weeds
Even if I soom had news of you
Miles of river and pass stay interposed—
I did once visit Ju and Ying
And last year I went back to my old hills
Can twenty years of frinedship
Not achieve one day more?
You are deep in poverty and illness
And hardships begin to close over me
Even if you are not back by mid-autumn
Make sure of autumn's end at the latest
How many days to that glad meeting
Is what I think of all day long.
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