Creek crisscrosses the meadow, banks scarred where water rose;
in sparse woods, frost-burned roots stick out at a slant.
Little boat with a single oar–where’s it going?
Home south of the river to a village of yellow leaves.
translated by Burton Watson
Very nice–a quiet mood to this.
someone who is homesick…
Well he spent most of his life away from family as did many of those ancient Chinese poets/officials.
it’s obvious