Suddenly aware that the good year is almost over,
Sitting down, I look at the chilling leaves fall.
I cannot even be like the decayed grasses
That whirl up and transform into fireflies.
translated by C.H. Wang
Ts’en Shen
Thinking of My Home in Ch’ang-an While Traveling with the Army on the Ninth by Ts’en Shen
If only I could climb somewhere
but no one sends me wine
my poor distant garden of mums
blooms by a battlefield now
translated by Red Pine
Composed at Sunset at the Dunes of Ho-yen by Ts’en Shen
On the sands is seen the sun rising,
On the sands is seen the sun setting.
Regret for having come ten thousand li:
Achievement, fame, what things are these?
Leonard Durso 