|
Battle cry many new ghosts Worry murmur alone old man Disorder cloud low weak dusk Strong snow dance return wind Gourd ladle discard cup without green Stove remain fire like red Many place news broken Worry sit straight book empty |
After the battle, many new ghosts cry, The solitary old man murmurs in his grief. Ragged low cloud thins the light of dusk, Thick snow dances back and forth in the wind. The wine ladle's cast aside, the cup not green, The stove still looks as if a fiery red. To many places, communications are broken, I sit, but cannot read my books for grief. |