Author Han Yu 我年十八九,壮气起胸中。作书献云阙,辞家逐秋蓬。岁时易迁次,身命多厄穷。一名虽云就,片禄不足充。今者复何事,卑栖寄徐戎。萧条资用尽,濩落门巷空。朝眠未能起,远怀方郁悰。击门者谁子,问言乃吾宗。自云有奇术,探妙知天工。既往怅何及,将来喜还通。期我语非佞,当为佐时雍。 Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments