A Message from My Lodge at Wang-Ch'Üan to P'ai Ti
The mountains are cold and blue now
And the autumn waters have run all day.
By my thatch door, leaning on my staff,
I listen to cicadas in the evening wind.
Sunset lingers at the ferry,
Supper-smoke floats up from the houses.
… Oh, when shall I pledge the great Hermit again
And sing a wild poem at Five Willows?
And the autumn waters have run all day.
By my thatch door, leaning on my staff,
I listen to cicadas in the evening wind.
Sunset lingers at the ferry,
Supper-smoke floats up from the houses.
… Oh, when shall I pledge the great Hermit again
And sing a wild poem at Five Willows?
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