Classic poem of the day
Away, those cloudy looks, that lab'ring sigh,
The peevish offspring of a sickly hour!
Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's power,
When the blind Gamester throws a luckless die.
Yon setting Sun flashes a mournful gleam
Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train:
Tomorrow shall the many-colour'd main '
In brightness roll beneath his orient beam!
Wild, as th' autumnal gust, the hand of Time
Flies o'er his mystic lyre: in shadowy dance
...
Member poem of the day
Alone, I sit serene within a bamboo grove,
At ease, I strum the lute and hum a song.
Unknown into the forest deep I’ll rove
Until the shining moon has sung along.
Chinese
竹里館
獨坐幽篁裡，
彈琴復長嘯。
深林人不知，
明月來相照。
Pronunciation
Zhú Lǐ Guǎn
&nbs......