Author: Du Fu (Tang Dynasty)
Yulu withered maple forest, Wushan Wuxia bleak. Between the river and the sky, the waves are rough and the clouds are covered with fog.
Cong Ju shed tears the other day. She was alone in the boat. Cold clothes push knives and rulers everywhere, and Baidicheng is anxious.
Maple trees gradually withered and damaged under the erosion of dew in late autumn, and Wushan and Wuxia were also shrouded in bleak and gloomy fog. The waves in the Wuxia Gorge are monstrous, and the dark clouds above seem to be pressing on the ground, and the world is gloomy. It has been two years since the flowers bloomed. Looking at the blooming flowers and thinking that I haven't been home for two years, I can't help crying. The ship is still tied to the shore. Although I can't go back to the East and wander outside, my heart is always tied to my hometown. We are rushing to make clothes to keep out the cold in winter, and the anvil knocking on cold clothes in Baidicheng is as tight as a crack. It seems that another year has passed, and my yearning for my hometown has become more dignified and deeper.