On the Cicada: In Prison
The Western Course: a cicada's voice singing;
A southern cap: longing for home intrudes.
How can I bear those shadows of black locks
That come here to face my " Song of White Hair " ?
Dew heavy on it, can fly no farther toward me;
The wind strong, its echoes easily lost.
No one believes in nobility and purity —
On my behalf who will explain what's in my heart?
A southern cap: longing for home intrudes.
How can I bear those shadows of black locks
That come here to face my " Song of White Hair " ?
Dew heavy on it, can fly no farther toward me;
The wind strong, its echoes easily lost.
No one believes in nobility and purity —
On my behalf who will explain what's in my heart?
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