1 min read
Слушать(AI)Rain
Roads not yet glistening, rain slight,
Broken clouds darken after thinning away.
Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken.
And beyond — white birds blaze in flight.
Sounds of cold-river rain grown familiar,
Autumn sun casts moist shadows.
Our brushwood gate, out to dry at the
Mill: hulled rice, half-wet and fragrant.
Du Fu
Du Fu (Wade–Giles: Tu Fu; Chinese: 杜甫; 712 – 770) was a Chinese poet and politician of the Tang dynasty. Along with his elder contemporary and f
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Lone Wild Goose
Alone, the wild goose refuses food and drink,his calls searching for the flock Who feels compassion for that single shadowvanishing in a thousand distant clouds You watch, even as it flies from sight,its plaintive calls cutting through y...
To Bi Siyao
Once stately figures in the art of rhyme, Now sadly down at heels, our careers in ruin, Regarded by our servants with disdain, We are grown old and gray before our time
Passing The Night At Headquarters
Clear autumn at headquarters, wu-tung trees cold beside the well; I spend the night alone in the river city,using up all of the candles Sad bugle notes sound through the long night as I talk to myself;glorious moon hanging in mid-skybut ...
Days End
Oxen and sheep were brought back Long ago, and bramble gates closed Mountains and rivers, far from my old garden, A windswept moon rises into clear night
