How few of us are left, how few!
Why do we not go back?
Were it not for our prince and his concerns,
What should we be doing here in the dew?
How few of us are left, how few!
Why do we not go back?
Were it not for our prince’s own concerns,
What should we be doing here in the mud?
translated by Arthur Waley
Blog magazine for lovers of health, food, books, music, humour and life in general
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on fridays and breaking news
I'll write as long as my lines live
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eu trăiesc, când să fiu supărat
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her dusk, his dawn
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