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Summer in the Mountains

Gently I stir a white feather fan,

With open shirt sitting in a green wood.

I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;

A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head. Another translation:

Too lazy to shift my white feather fanI lie naked in the green woods.

Hanging my hat on a rock,

I bare my head to the breeze in the pines.

#summer#the#mountains

Li Po

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"The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright —

The First Snowfall

The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white.

Ode to the West Wind

I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Последний гражданин

Меня забыли на орбите, Ведь больше нет внизу страны, Что отворяла дверь открытьям, Свершениям новым и любви.

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Summer in the Mountains

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