<Header>
<Author: 韓愈>
<Title: 枯樹>
<Format: 五言律詩>
<Year: 1965>
<BookName: POEMS OF THE LATE T'ANG>
<Translator: Graham& Anque Charlet>
<TranslatedTitle: A Withered Tree>
<BookPage: 74>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 0>
<End Header>
<Poem>
老樹無枝葉，
風霜不復侵。
腹穿人可過，
皮剝蟻還尋。
寄託惟朝菌，
依投絕暮禽。
猶堪持改火，
未肯但空心。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Not a twig or a leaf on the old tree,
Wind and frost harm it no more.
A man could pass through the hole in its belly,
Ants crawl searching under its peeling bark.
Its only lodger, the toadstool which dies in a morning,
The birds no longer visit in the twilight.
But its wood can still spark tinder.
It does not care yet to be only the void at its heart.
<End Translation>