Author Du Xunhe 秋来谁料病相萦,枕上心犹算去程。风射破窗灯易灭,月穿疏屋梦难成。故园何啻三千里,新雁才闻一两声。我自与人无旧分,非干人与我无情。 Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Reviews Post review No reviews yet. Log in or register to post comments