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Mooring on the Qinhuai
Mist wraps the cold water, moonlight wraps the sand; at night I moor on the Qinhuai, close by the wine houses. The singing women do not know the grief of a fallen state; across the water they are still singing 'Flowers of the Rear Courtyard.'
泊秦淮
Blackrobe Lane
By Vermilion Bird Bridge, wild grasses are in flower; at the mouth of Blackrobe Lane the evening sun slants. The swallows that once nested before the halls of Wang and Xie now fly into the houses of ordinary people.
乌衣巷
On the Ninth Day of the Ninth Month, Remembering My Brothers
Alone in another region, a stranger there, at every festival I think of my kin twice as much. From far off I know my brothers are on the heights, and where all wear dogwood, one man is missing.
九月九日忆山东兄弟
Written on Coming Home
I left home young and come back old; my home accent unchanged, the hair at my temples thinned. The children see me and do not know me; laughing, they ask where the guest has come from.
回乡偶书
Hearing a Flute by Night on the Shouxiang Wall
Before Huile Peak the sand is like snow; beyond the Shouxiang wall the moon is like frost. No one knows where a reed pipe is being blown— all night the campaigning men gaze toward home.
夜上受降城闻笛
Quiet Night Thoughts
Moonlight before my bed— I take it for frost upon the ground. I lift my head and gaze at the bright moon; I lower it, thinking of home.
静夜思