Gusty winds of gloom sweep yellow wormwood, Dirges float across the autumn stream. Carriages turn back to the …
Gusty winds of gloom sweep yellow wormwood,
Dirges float across the autumn stream.
Carriages turn back to the walled city,
While a lone grave lies in moonlit beam.
Twin wheel-tracks stretch beyond the city wall,
The east-west road winds on without end.
More funerals than births mark the days,
How many live to see their hoary age?
To see men tear each other's hearts apart,
Better to retreat to the mountain's art.
Far from the wails of sorrow's refrain,
In silence, let my heart find its refrain.
When time ends, let nature take its toll,
Thus freed from sorrow's endless scroll.
In this world, few live to ripe old age,
All are bound by grief's relentless cage.