The Melancholy
of a Traveler
Up high in the city, ten thousand miles away,
The reeds and willows mimic a
shore at bay.
Clouds rise over the stream, sun
sets on the tower,
Winds fill the halls as storm
clouds gather power.
Birds alight on green meadows by Qin's garden,
Cicadas chirp in Han palace,
autumn-laden.
Don't ask me about things from
days of yore,
My homeland's to the east, where
Wei River roars. |