Moved by a Scroll of Old Poems
Night grows late, I put poetry aside, breathe a long sigh.
By lamplight tears of old age dampen my white beard.
A scroll of old poems from twenty years ago —
of ten who wrote poems to match them, nine are no more.
By lamplight tears of old age dampen my white beard.
A scroll of old poems from twenty years ago —
of ten who wrote poems to match them, nine are no more.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.