将赴吴兴登乐游原 赤壁 泊秦淮 寄扬州韩绰判官 遣怀 秋夕 赠别之一 赠别之二 金谷园
清时有味是无能， 闲爱孤云静爱僧。 欲把一麾江海去， 乐游原上望昭陵。 I CLIMB TO THE LEYOU TOMBS BEFORE LEAVING FOR WUXING Even in this good reign, how can I serve? The lone cloud rather, the Buddhist peace.... Once more, before crossing river and sea, I face the great Emperor\'s mountain-tomb.
折戟沈沙铁未销， 自将磨洗认前朝。 东风不与周郎便， 铜雀春深锁二乔。 BY THE PURPLE CLIFF On a part of a spear still unrusted in the sand I have burnished the symbol of an ancient kingdom.... Except for a wind aiding General Zhou Yu, Spring would have sealed both Qiao girls in CopperBird Palace.
烟笼寒水月笼沙， 夜泊秦淮近酒家。 商女不知亡国恨， 隔江犹唱后庭花。 A MOORING ON THE QIN HUAI RIVER Mist veils the cold stream, and moonlight the sand, As I moor in the shadow of a river-tavern, Where girls, with no thought of a perished kingdom, Gaily echo A Song of Courtyard Flowers.
青山隐隐水迢迢， 秋尽江南草未凋。 二十四桥明月夜， 玉人何处教吹箫。 A MESSAGE TO HAN CHO THE YANGZHOU MAGISTRATE There are faint green mountains and far green waters, And grasses in this river region not yet faded by autumn; And clear in the moon on the Twenty-Four Bridges, Girls white as jade are teaching flute-music.
落魄江湖载酒行， 楚腰纤细掌中轻。 十年一觉扬州梦， 赢得青楼薄幸名。 A CONFESSION With my wine-bottle, watching by river and lake For a lady so tiny as to dance on my palm, I awake, after dreaming ten years in Yangzhou, Known as fickle, even in the Street of Blue Houses.
银烛秋光冷画屏， 轻罗小扇扑流萤。 天阶夜色凉如水， 坐看牵牛织女星。 IN THE AUTUMN NIGHT Her candle-light is silvery on her chill bright screen. Her little silk fan is for fireflies.... She lies watching her staircase cold in the moon, And two stars parted by the River of Heaven.
娉娉袅袅十三余， 豆蔻梢头二月初。 春风十里扬州路， 卷上珠帘总不如。 PARTING I She is slim and supple and not yet fourteen, The young spring-tip of a cardamon-spray. On the Yangzhou Road for three miles in the breeze Every pearl-screen is open. But there\'s no one like her.
多情却似总无情， 唯觉樽前笑不成。 蜡烛有心还惜别， 替人垂泪到天明。 Parting II How can a deep love seem deep love, How can it smile, at a farewell feast? Even the candle, feeling our sadness, Weeps, as we do, all night long.
繁华事散逐香尘， 流水无情草自春。 日暮东风怨啼鸟， 落花犹似坠楼人。 THE GARDEN OF THE GOLDEN VALLEY Stories of passion make sweet dust, Calm water, grasses unconcerned. At sunset, when birds cry in the wind, Petals are falling like a girl s robe long ago.
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